Learning Curves
by tala-hiding
Summary: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 speculation, not actual episodes.  Rating has now been changed to M for language and sexual situations. ON HIATUS.
1. Going To The Movies

**Title**: Learning Curves

**Rating**: T, but definitely going in the direction of M

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Bones_. I wish I did, but I don't. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX, and various affiliated.

**Author's Notes**: This is an immediate follow up to "A Love Warm and Bright". I'd suggest you read that one first before diving into this, just so you have a pretty good idea of the timeline. Also, I've never planned such a long multi-chapter fic before, in between work and my real life writing projects, so apologies in advance for possible delays in posting. Having said that, I'll attempt to post at least once a week. :)

And now, to the fic-mobile!

* * *

Even though most of her colleagues were already getting ready to leave by 5 o'clock on a blustery Friday afternoon, Temperance Brennan prided herself on her disciplined work ethics. Though there was currently no outstanding FBI cases in her docket, she was still typing away furiously on her keyboard in her office, completing her authentication reports on several skeletal remains that the _Laboratoire des Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale_ up in Quebec had sent over for her to identify. On top of that, she was getting ready to send over a spec summary of her latest Kathy Reichs novel to her publisher for next year's publication line-up. So it came as a surprise to her when her IM pinged and the dialogue screen opened up on the bottom right-hand corner of her screen.

_Whatcha doin, Bones?_

She grinned. Her partner, Seeley Booth, had promised to take her out on a date as soon as both their schedules permitted - in other words, barring horribly disfigured and/or dismembered remains, potentially dangerous chases when apprehending murder suspects, and more time spent as expert witnesses in courthouse cases compared to even the most diligent volunteers for jury duty. He'd broken up with his war correspondent girlfriend, Hannah, at least a month back, but as expected, they were given a case as soon as the smoke had cleared from that particular break-up, and the partners had hit the ground running.

_I'm at work, Booth. You know that._

_Yes, but I still want to know what you're doing._

_I'm writing up a report for a set of remains that were sent over to me from Quebec to identify and corroborate with their own forensic anthropologists._

_Nothing like being the best in the field, huh, Bones?_

_I am the best in my field, Booth._ She tried to stop herself from sticking her tongue out at the computer screen.

_Well, would Miss Best-In-Her-Field want to go out on a date with me tonight?_

Brennan nipped on her bottom lip, a childhood nervous habit that she failed to break even after receiving her doctorates. _I have a lot of work to do, Booth._

_All work and no play makes Bones a dull girl._

She rolled her eyes. _Fine. You can pick me up at 8._

_7_

_7:30_

_7:15_

_Fine. 7:15. You are incorrigible, Booth._

_It's one of my best traits, Bones. See you at your place at 7:15. Don't be late!_ His name winked out of her contacts list and she deduced that he had logged off and most probably would be heading out of the Hoover Building. She stared back at her computer screen, the words suddenly blurring in front of her like rainwater against a glass window. Suddenly, she felt her stomach sinking - a feeling that she had never really associated with a date before. But then, this was no ordinary date. _What am I going to wear?_

There was only one person who could help her.

Steeling herself for an inevitable backlash, she pushed back her chair, unbuttoned her crisp blue lab coat and hung it up on the coat rack at the door of her office, and walked briskly towards Angela's office. The recently-married forensic artist was seated in front of an easel, her brush creating graceful arcs and swirls of color across the canvas. "Ange?"

"Yes sweetie?" She put down her brush and grinned at her best friend expectantly. "What brings you to my cave of artistic bliss?"

For a moment, Brennan considered just stalking out of the lab. Angela was unaware of the change between Booth and Brennan since that afternoon at the Botanic Gardens. Still, after six years, Angela deserved to be the first to know. "I... need your help. I have a date tonight."

Angela's dark eyes sparkled with excitement as she reached over and tugged Brennan inside her office-slash-studio. "And who's the hunk who's taking you out tonight?"

"Hah. Hmm."

"Bren. Sweetie. This is me, Angela, your best friend. Not the best person to prevaricate with."

Was everyone around her psychic? (Not that Brennan ever believed in psychics, but somehow, it seemed that the people surrounding her day-to-day existence was able to glean information from her even before she opened her mouth.) "I'm not prevaricating, Angela. I simply require your assistance in preparing for a date tonight."

"Uh-huh. Except that you never ask my help unless it's important, sweetie."

She huffed. "Fine. It's Booth, okay? We have... a date tonight. Angela... Angela... please don't scream..."

The sound coming out of her best friend's mouth sounded somewhere between a squeal and somebody requiring the Heimlich maneuver. Brennan rolled her eyes and attempted to cover Angela's mouth with her hand. But it was too late - Cam skidded inside in her coroner's uniform and sensible heels; Hodgins at her heels, his plastic goggles still hanging awkwardly from his neck and rubber gloves still wrapped around his hands. They took in the scene: Angela's eyes glittered maniacally and she was hopping up and down even though Brennan's hand was still covering her mouth.

"Uh, care to tell me what's going on?" asked Cam in amusement.

"Nothing," Brennan answered quickly, attempting to stop Angela from spontaneously combusting with excitement. "Absolutely nothing."

"Then why are you trying to suffocate my wife, Dr. B?" Hodgins asked.

"Oh." Brennan removed her hand from Angela's mouth. "I'm sorry. I merely attempted to control the volume of her excitement in order to reduce the concern in the lab in case someone assumed that something of negative consequence was happening in her office, which of course you did. I apologize if I overstepped my boundaries."

Cam gave her a bright grin. "And what, precisely, was Angela so excited about?"

"Ah..."

"Brennan's going on a date with Booth!" Angela clapped both hands across her lips and looked at Brennan, horrified. "Oh my god, did that just come out of my mouth?"

Brennan sighed. "Yes, Angela."

"I'm so _sorry_!"

"It's okay - " Brennan was unable to continue when Hodgins' arms engulfed her in a big bear hug, quickly followed by Cam's more subdued, yet still enthusiastic, embrace.

"It's about damn time!" crowed Hodgins as he twirled his wife around her office. "Glad to see Booth finally found his balls!"

"I am fairly certain Booth's testicles are in their proper anatomical position, right, Dr. Saroyan?" She turned in concern to the forensic pathologist beside her, who was attempting to hide a grin. "I have no firsthand knowledge of this, but I assume that since you and Booth - "

"That ship has sailed a long time ago, Dr. Brennan," Cam said amiably. "I'm happy for the both of you."

Disengaging herself from an impromptu waltz with her husband, Angela scurried over to Brennan's side and started pulling her towards the door. "We have to get you an outfit pronto, and your nails, and your hair and... what time is he picking you up, Bren?"

"7:15."

"Okay, that gives us a bit over two hours." She half-pulled, half-dragged Brennan out of the office. "Come on, I know this boutique over on Wisconsin that has a dress selection to die for..." The two women's voices faded in the cavernous hallways of the lab, although they could still hear Brennan protesting that Booth would most probably prefer her alive rather than dead in a dress.

"Sure," said Cam to the almost-empty room. "Go ahead, my star employees. Take the afternoon off. I give you my permission."

Hodgins chuckled, shaking his head as he left his boss to her musings.

* * *

"Do I look okay?" Brennan smoothed the skirt of the burgundy-and-lace halter dress in front of Angela. It had a delicately ruffled decolletage, hinting only at the shadow of her ample cleavage, before narrowing at the waist and tapering into an A-line skirt that skimmed the edge of her knees. The fabric was light and silky - perfect for a spring evening that was slowly giving way to summer. Brennan's hair tumbled artfully down her shoulders, changing from mahogany to copper under the bedroom lights. Angela had insisted on simplicity tonight: she wore an elegant silver chain around her neck and star-shaped earrings dangling on a myriad of delicate links. Simple wine-colored sandals wound around her ankles, highlighting the curve of her feet and the length of her legs.

"You look gorgeous, Bren." Angela sat at the edge of the bed, surrounded by discarded tissue packaging and plastic wrappers. "Booth's going to want to eat you up as soon as he sets his eyes on you."

Brennan sat opposite Angela, balancing herself at the edge of her dresser table. "I have to admit, I'm experiencing accelerated heartbeat and slight palpitations in my chest cavity, as well as a rise in temperature that doesn't corroborate with the weather outside."

"It's normal to be nervous, Bren."

"But it's _Booth_."

Angela rolled her eyes in amusement and swung her long legs to the floor. Brennan watched her as she started tidying up the room, stuffing the remnants of their shopping into a plastic bag and tying the two ends together decisively. "That's precisely why you're nervous, Bren. It's Booth. You two have been dancing around this for six years. _Six years_, Bren. Most people manage to get married _and_ divorced in six years, and you two haven't even gone out on a date. It's not slow. It's positively glacial." She took Brennan's hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly. "I love you, sweetie, so trust me when I tell you that this? This thing between you and Booth? It's a good thing. In fact, it's a thing from which all other things spring from. It's the thing to end all things. It's a thing from which whole universes and then some come from, exploding in their... thing-ness." She waved her hand dismissively before Brennan could say anything. "And yes, you know what I mean, Brennan, so don't be oblivious now."

Brennan took a deep breath. "Thank you, Ange. I think I needed that."

Angela gave her a hug just as the doorbell rang. "Now, go get him, tiger." She ushered Brennan out the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Somehow, the distance from her bedroom to the front door never seemed as far as it did right now to Brennan. She took a deep breath, grabbed her clutch from the kitchen counter en route to the door, and grasped the doorknob. _Relax. It's just Booth._

Except that the Booth in front of her... well, now. She had seen her partner poured into exquisitely tailored dress suits, rented tuxedos, ratty jeans and t-shirts, and on one glorious occasion, sitting in a bathtub wearing nothing more than a beer helmet. But tonight - ah, tonight she could feel her heart hammering against her chest, pumping away for all it was worth as she drank in the image of Booth looking as though he stepped out of the pages of GQ (and yes, she was aware of that magazine, thanks to Angela's insistence). He wore a white dress shirt that seemed to mold against the hard planes of his chest and shoulders, accentuated by a midnight-blue vest, casually unbuttoned, and matching dress pants. Shiny black Italian leather shoes completed the ensemble.

"Your... your belt?" she managed to stutter, finally taking a moment to breathe.

He grinned at her and flicked open the vest to show her his suspenders, a shade away from burgundy. "Like what you see there, Bones?"

She took a cleansing breath and looked at him cheekily. "I should be asking you the same question."

"Oh, I'm definitely enjoying the view here."

She stepped aside to let him enter, just as Angela was stepping out of the kitchen. "Well, hello there, Studly," she purred, giving Booth an appreciative once-over. "Brennan, I've cleaned up your bedroom already and threw away the trash.' She grinned at both of them. "Now, you two, don't do anything I wouldn't do - which is pretty much everything anyway." She flounced off to the door, giving Brennan a quick hug on her way out. "Enjoy yourselves tonight."

There was a sense of stillness that settled over them as the door clicked shut behind Angela. Booth reached out and wrapped his hand gently around her forearm, drawing her close to him. She could smell his aftershave on him - a hint of musk and something else that was undeniably Booth, as much a part of him as his Cocky belt buckle, his outlandish socks, and his perfectly groomed hair. He tucked her against his body, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her until she was flush against him, her curves molding themselves against his unyielding form. "Hi there, Bones."

And before she could even form a coherent response, he'd bent down and latched his lips on to hers, kissing her quietly. She felt the heat in her belly ignite, spreading across her abdomen, flickering tendrils of desire wrapping around her body as she sank into Booth's kiss. His tongue urged her lips to part, and she gripped his shoulders to keep her balance as his lips carefully undid every other kiss she had ever received - _this_ was her first kiss, this windswept, passionate tornado of a kiss that left her breathless, wanting for more.

Booth stepped back, his hands resting languidly at the curve of her waist. For once, he managed to reduce Temperance Brennan, renowned forensic anthropologist and bestselling author, speechless. She looked gorgeous, her hair tumbling down her shoulders, her ocean-blue eyes glittering, a flush of pink coloring her cheeks after he kissed her hello. _Man, if this is just the start of the night_...

He released her and crooked his arm in invitation. "Shall we, Bones?"

She laughed and hooked her arm around his, smiling. "Yes we shall, Booth."

* * *

He parked the SUV under the pale glare of the streetlamp and hurried over to her side to open the door before the popped off her seatbelt. "Just let me do this for you, Bones, okay?" he said before she could even assert her independence and inform him that she was able to disembark from the vehicle just fine. "It's our first date."

She peered up at him curiously. "Are you nervous, Booth?"

He raked a hand through his hair, making the short brown strands stick up in unruly directions. "I just don't want to mess this up, you know?" he said quietly. "I mean, when you turned me down the last time..."

They crossed the street, hand in hand, and paused in front of a 24-hour convenience store, its bright electric lights making Brennan's skin almost luminous. "Booth, look, I'm nervous too, okay? This is new to me. I've never dated my best friend."

His brown eyes met her blue ones in a steady gaze that spoke volumes. "I'm glad you're my best friend, then," he said quietly.

She was the first one to break away; still uncomfortable with the emotions blossoming inside her in relation to Booth, she decided it was easier to turn her sights away from him and towards the shadowed street. "Where are we going, anyway?" she asked lightly, fumbling with the strap of her clutch purse.

Booth gestured towards the small art deco building a few shops away. "Avalon Theatre," he smiled. "I heard there's a special double feature tonight."

"You're taking me to the movies?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Not just any kind of movie." They finally arrived at the innocuous black metal door with the crossbar, nestled behind a curve of purple velvet cloth tied back with a gold sash. He pushed the bar down and held the door open, ushering her into the theatre.

A man in his forties met them at the small lobby, just shy of the theatre proper. His grin was partly obscured by a neatly trimmed beard. He held out his hand and pumped Booth's enthusiastically as the FBI agent made the introductions. "Bones, this is Jake Malone. He owns the place. Jakey, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Jake shook her hand enthusiastically as well, then clapped Booth on the shoulders. "Glad to see he's calling in his favor for you, Doc. I don't like owing any debts, especially to this big lug."

Booth's eyes crinkled in amusement at Brennan's displeased expression. "Relax, Bones. It's not a gambling thing. I saved his ass in Kosovo, and he said if we returned stateside in one piece, he'd lend me his theatre."

"Once." Jake rubbed the bridge of his nose and ushered them inside. "Everything's all set up, Booth. The technician will start the reel once you give him the signal and then wait outside. He'll lock up after you guys."

"Wait, you mean we're the only ones here?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah, babe. The entire theatre's ours. Jake closed it for the night."

"Thank you." This time, it was Brennan who favored Jake with a sincere smile. "We really appreciate this."

"And she's polite to boot. Gorgeous and has good manners. You got yourself a killer combo here, Booth." Jake chortled and waved as he headed towards the exit. "Enjoy yourselves, kids."

Booth led her to the darkened theatre with an exaggerated bow. "After you, milady."

She rolled her eyes and entered the small theatre. Elegant sconces on the walls gave the place an intimate glow. Unlike larger cinemas, the theatre Booth's friend owned used padded black folding chairs, comfortably seating about sixty people per room. A large projection screen took over one of the four walls of the velvet-draped theatre. The folding chairs were all pushed towards the back, and a simple wool blanket was spread on the floor, surrounded by brightly colored throw pillows, a large wicker hamper, and a bucket of chilled wine. Brennan turned to stare at Booth in surprise. "This is all for me?" she asked, trying to keep out the catch from her voice.

Booth took her hand and led her towards the indoor picnic. He kicked off his shoes and she shimmied out of her strappy sandals, and the pair settled down on the blankets. Booth gave a thumbs-up sign towards the back of the room, and Brennan heard the whirr of the projector as the film flickered on the screen. In the chiaroscuro of the room, she quietly observed his movements as he laid out the picnic he had prepared for them - a salad with pecans, apple slices, and doused with a tart vinaigrette for her, a roast beef sandwich for him, crispy fries for two, and an apple turnover for him. He rummaged around some more and produced her favorite organic chocolate-chip cookies, handing them to her with a wide grin. She accepted them silently, carefully cataloging everything in her eidetic memory.

His hand brushed her bare calf and she gasped in surprise. Skin to skin contact - now that was something new between the two of them. She'd held his hand, felt his lips on hers, his hand occupying the small of her back on a regular basis. But to be able to touch each other anywhere, everywhere - that sent a jolt of nervous excitement through her body. She was _allowed_ to touch now, allowed to mark him as her own. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of sadness: even Hannah was able to feel him under her hands, under her skin, was able to lay claim on him in the most primal of ways. Whereas she had always kept him at arm's length, always afraid to allow him to see her flaws, her failures, the cracks in her armor. Suddenly, she felt a sick desire to flee.

Booth looked at her, concern written all over his face. "Are you okay, Bones?"

She twisted the hem of her skirt around her fingers in a nervous gesture. "I... I don't deserve this, Booth. Why are you doing this?"

He inched closer to her, until their noses were mere millimeters away from each other, their breath mingling in the dark air-conditioned theatre. "I'm doing this because I love you," he said softly. "And I'll keep on saying it until you actually believe it."

"I do." She reached up to stroke his forearm, her nimble fingers running up and down the decadent fabric of his dress shirt. "But this? This scares me, Booth. What if what we're doing is wrong?"

In response, he leaned forward, his lips slanted against hers. She parted her lips softly, allowing him to tug at her bottom lip, gently worrying the soft skin. His arms were on either side of her, his body sliding against hers in a deliciously slow manner. Brennan leaned backwards so that she was resting against the mountain of pillows that surrounded them. Booth followed her downwards, sinking into the kiss. He devoured her hungrily, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. His fingers sank into the soft curls framing her face, his tongue exploring the sweet curves of her mouth. Her fingers clutches his back, running up and down the smooth valleys and hills of his muscles, slipping underneath the back of his shirt to explore the expanse of skin beneath the crisp white cotton. Surfacing from the kiss, Booth leaned forward, their foreheads touching. Her eyes were shadowed in the almost-darkness, glittering agates in the shifting light. "Did that feel wrong?"

An exhale. "No."_ Never_.

:"Then we're good, okay, Bones?" He pressed another kiss against the soft skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tracing the curve of her collarbone as he dipped his tongue into the shallow juncture of her clavicle, tangling with the silver chain around her neck. She gasped and pressed herself against him, desire churning inside her body like a storm waiting to be unleashed. She could feel the heat of his erection pressing against her thigh and slid one small hand to stroke him through his pants. She heard him gasp, his body taut with desire, his eyes dark and dangerous as he regarded her beneath him, flushed and panting. "Bones, I love you, but I don't want our first time to be at the back of some movie theatre, necking like teenagers."

She grinned at him. "Why not? I must admit, I've never had intercourse in a theatre..."

"Bones," he groaned, sitting up and trying to reign in the need to rip off the lacy concoction of a dress surrounding his partner's body and taking her right there on the floor. "Give a guy a break. I've been fantasizing about this for seven years, okay? Let me make it right."

"I'd say you're doing very well already," she replied innocently, leaning back against her elbows on the pillows, looking every inch lovely and ravished. The artful curls that Angela had done tonight were now loose, framing her face softly. She looked at him from underneath half-lidded lashes, deciding whether or not to have him for dinner or dessert.

"Bones, if you keep on looking at me like that - "

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to eat me up."

She gave him a lazy smile. "Some day, I'll have you for dessert, Agent Booth. I assume you'll taste just as well as chocolate syrup."

"_Bones!_"

She reached out and grabbed her salad bowl and a plastic fork, grinning at him. "All right. What are we watching tonight?"

He leaned back, settling himself at her elbow, setting the plastic box of fries between them. In front of them, a very young Al Pacino glowers at Sterling Hayden and Al Lettieri inside a dimly lit Italian restaurant. "Don't recognize it, Bones? I lent you the DVD last year and you promised to watch it."

She chewed on a piece of apple thoughtfully. "This is _The Godparent_, yes?"

"_The Godfather_, Bones. A classic American film, okay?"

"I prefer French or Italian films." She listened to the dialogue carefully. "Their linguistic coach must not be very good, since I'm fairly certain that's now how you say - "

He pressed a finger against her lips. "Shhh, Bones. Just enjoy the movie."

"I don't appreciate being treated like a child, you know."

"I know. But I want to share this film with you, and I can't do that if you keep on contradicting every single thing about the movie." He gave her a conciliatory smile. "Just let your mind go free and let the movie take you where it wants you to go."

"That's actually very profound, Booth."

He took a bite out of a fry and held out the other half to her. "I did take a few film classes in my time, you know. I'm not just some Neanderthal who bashes people on the head and then runs back to my man-cave."

She laughed. "There's no historical evidence that - oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I?" she said in response to Booth's amused grin. "All right, I shall attempt to enjoy this cultural experience you are providing me."

"Ah, Bones," he said, leaning into her. The weight of his head was comfortable against her side, and she reached out one hand to thread into his hair. "This is perfect."

* * *

It was past midnight when the couple left the theatre, Brennan chattering happily a mile a minute as she explained the anthropological significance of the Corleones' actions and how the Mafia was romanticized by the movie industry. Discreetly tipping the young man who manned the projector before they left the theatre, he then proceeded to steer Brennan in the direction of the SUV on the other side of the road.

Her eyes were bright as they drove towards her apartment. "That was a lovely date, Booth. I thoroughly enjoyed myself."

He chuckled. "I can see that, Bones."

She almost bounced in her seat. "I believe you mentioned that this film is part of a trilogy? When can we watch the other two?"

"I've got the entire DVD collection, Bones. Remember? I lent it to you and then you gave it back."

He felt, rather than saw, the shadow of sadness that suddenly fell across her face.

"Hey. What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?"

She sighed. "I've hurt you. I am aware that my thought processes are significantly faster compared to my peers, I've discovered that when it comes to emotional processes, I am still quite naive. It's only now, in hindsight, that I've come to realize that a lot of my actions were a result of my own feelings of inadequacy and fear of loss, but unfortunately they've also affected the way we interact. I'm sorry for that."

"Hey." He gave her a reassuring smile. "You've come a long way, Bones. Six years ago, you wouldn't even have been able to figure out _why_ you're the way you are. And you know what? I wouldn't have you any other way."

"The only reason I was even able to look at myself is because of you," she said quietly.

"And that's why we're partners, Bones. Because you and me? We bring out the best in each other, yeah?"

"I bring out the best in you?"

"Every day, Bones. Every day."

The SUV turned a corner and slid into a parking space in front of Brennan's apartment. She turned to him as she undid her seatbelt. "Would you like to come up?" she asked. The palpitations were back, insistently trying to drown out the sound of her voice.

Booth smiled at her. "Not tonight, Bones."

"Why?"

He drummed his hands on the steering wheel. His shirtsleeves succumbed to gravity, the tattoos on his wrists suddenly stark against his skin. "Because this isn't just a booty call. I mean, call me old-fashioned, but I want to actually court you, Bones. I want you to see what making love is all about - you know, where the 'love' part is actually important."

"But you already know that I love you."

He smiled at her words and reached over the center console to haul her up to his lap. She slid against his body, her dress riding up to her thighs. She fit perfectly in his arms. She looped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him, sending a tingle up his spine and sending signals to his cock to stand at attention. All his fantasies - seven years' worth of them - didn't even hold a candle to the real thing. He inhaled her scent, a heady mix of jasmine and Temperance, and tried to maintain his control. He knew he was fighting a losing battle the entire evening - she was a mix of minx and mystery, constantly teasing him and tugging at his heartstrings. She was everything he missed in Hannah, all tangled up in burgundy and lace.

"I love you too, okay Bones? Never ever doubt that."

She laughed against his neck. "I've never doubted you."

"That makes one of us." He planted a kiss on her bare shoulder, softly brushing away her copper curls to taste her skin. She thrummed underneath him, her hands tucked underneath his vest, skimming his torso. His arms were full of Brennan - her thighs pressed on either side of him, her body flush against his despite the edge of the steering wheel digging into the small of her back. "Let me make this special, Temperance. For both of us. All right?"

She sighed. "All right."

"Good. Now let me take you up and kiss you good night."

She grinned at him wickedly. "I can kiss you good night in a lot of ways, Agent Booth."

"I'm fairly certain of that, Dr. Brennan."

* * *

The insistent ring of the doorbell roused Brennan up from her slumber ten minutes before her alarm rang. Slipping into a fluffy coral-colored robe, she padded towards the door, hoping that whoever it was wasn't afraid of a little bit of bed head.

A delivery man stood on the other side of the door, clearly appreciative of the sight that greeted him. "Delivery for Dr. Temperance Brennan," he stated, shoving a brown paper-wrapped parcel in her hands and a clipboard awaiting her signature. She signed quickly, tipped the man, and then padded back inside, locking the door behind her. She grabbed her scissors from the kitchen counter and carefully snipped off the twine that tied the package together. Unfolding the paper, she discovered a special-edition box set of _The Godfather _trilogy. She grinned. Only one person could've sent her that.

A note fluttered to the floor, covered in Booth's familiar scrawling handwriting. She bent down and picked it up, smoothing the sheet on the counter. _Bones_, it read, _I know you've got a steep learning curve, and I promised you that I'd return your stuff for each date you go out with me. So here's the first of your stuff (well, my stuff, really) that I'm returning to you. Do you get where this is going or do I still have you guessing? Use that beautiful brain of yours, gorgeous, and get ready for our next date. Love, Booth._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Sooooo what did you think? Shall we continue? Do you want to see how the other dates go, and what else Booth has up his sleeve? (Aside from all that sexy muscles, yum.) As usual, reviews fuel a writer's soul - I'm looking forward to your thoughts! :)**

**As an aside, the Avalon Theatre does exist in DC, and thanks to Google Maps, I at least have a relative visual of the area. Unfortunately, the inside decor of the place was left to my imagination, so I hope it works. Similarly, I've never seen **_**The Godfather**_** but I've attempted to do my research as much as possible. Plus, I've always thought of Booth as a movie buff, given his vast knowledge of pop culture references. **

**Again, any mistakes are my own. That's about the only thing I own with this fic. :D**


	2. Baggage That Goes With Mine

**Title**: Learning Curves

**Rating**: T for now. Booth's a gentleman.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Bones_. I wish I did, but I don't. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX, and various affiliates.

**Author's Notes**: So I've been thinking - I figured I should stagger their dates, since it would be just a hop, skip, jump for Booth and Brennan to hit the sack. So expect these kids to have filler moments here and there as they attempt to navigate their newfound relationship with each other and with other people. Also, all mistakes are mine, so I apologize in advance.

And also, a BIG THANK YOU to all those who put this story on alert, on their favorite, and actually wrote in a review. I really appreciate all your support. See? The more reviews I get, the faster I put chapters up.

* * *

It was the grin that was heard around the world. The grin that circled the globe. The grin that invaded Washington DC and stopped for a bagel along the way. And that grin was permanently plastered on Booth's face as he walked into the Hoover that Monday morning. He was absently twirling his lucky poker chip between his fingers as he walked into the small kitchen area just at the side of the bullpen, thinking what a great day it was to be alive when he ran into Assistant Director Andrew Hacker, who was making himself a cup of coffee in the pantry. "Hi sir," he greeted the older man amiably, grabbing a standard-issue FBI mug from the cupboard and a 3-in-1 coffee packet from the counter. "I thought you guys above had assistants doing this kind of thing for you."

Hacker nodded, placing his own mug into the microwave and timing it to 30 seconds. "Yes, but Carol is on leave today, so I figured I wanted to see what you schmucks were doing down here. Good work on the Bollinger case, by the way."

"Thank you, sir. The Jeffersonian team contributed valuable evidence that made it an ironclad defense. I'm sure Caroline can handle it from there."

The microwave pinged, and Hacker grabbed his mug. Booth was pouring hot water into his own coffee when the assistant director leaned across the counter and looked at Booth curiously. "This might be presumptuous of me, Booth, and I'm certainly aware of the professional line between you and Temperance, but tell me, would you have any idea why she hasn't been answering any of my calls or emails since she returned from Indonesia?"

Booth reigned in his grin and looked at Hacker, trying not to think about punching his boss in the nose. When push came to shove, Booth knew he was the better agent - and the stronger agent, at that. Hacker worked in forensic accounting before his promotion; Booth's track record in homicide made it clear that he was not above and beyond using his physical prowess to subdue the criminal elements that often made itself known during a case. In this situation, he wasn't sure if a fist to the face would be construed as self-defense. He thought the better of it. "I'm sure Bones would have mentioned it if she'd received your... correspondence. But she hasn't said anything," he said with a deliberately casual shrug.

"Ah, well. I hope some white knight hasn't swept her off her feet yet during that dig of hers." Concern was written all over Hacker's face as he took a swig of his coffee. "Speaking of white knights - how's that girl of yours coming alone? Hannah, her name, was it?"

"_The Washington Post_ wasn't enough for her, sir. She's decided to return to investigative journalism. Attached to CNN, as far as I recall."

"Long-distance then?" Hacker clapped Booth on the back amiably. "Good man. You'll make it work."

He nodded and gave his boss a decidedly uncomfortable smile. "We, uh, we broke it off."

"Ah." Was that a look of panic that crossed Hacker's face? Booth grinned into the rim of his own mug. Looks like even Hacker acknowledged that he was competition. What the other man didn't know was that he'd already come out winning. "Well, it was good chatting with you, Agent Booth. Make sure that the reports for the Bollinger case is on my desk at the end of the day." Hacker dumped the contents of his mug into the sink and grimaced. "And I have no idea how you agents manage to drink this stuff. It's diabolical."

Booth raised his mug at the retreating figure of the assistant director in a mock salute. "I'll be sure to let Housekeeping know, sir."

* * *

"So?" Angela scurried beside Brennan as she entered the Medico-Legal lab, which was already buzzing with activity at the stroke of eight. "How did it go?"

"It went very well."

"Aaaaaand?"

"And what, Angela?"

"Brennan, what did we say again about girl talk?"

Brennan cocked her head to one side and paused. "You mentioned something about 'juicy details'. Though I'm almost afraid to ask what macerated fruit pulp has to do with your line of inquiry regarding my date with Booth."

Angela looked as though her head was about to explode. "Details, Brennan. I require details. What happened, where did he take you, and did you do the horizontal tango?"

They arrived at Brennan's office, and she slid in front of her desk, dropping her bag on the floor as she fired up her computer. Angela sat on one of the chairs in front of her, tapping her pen against the edge of her clipboard impatiently. "He took me to the Avalon Theatre to see _The Godfather_. Apparently, he knew the owner. There was no dancing of any kind, as we were both seated on the picnic blanket at the time."

Angela traded the rapt expression on her face for something akin to confusion. "Picnic blanket?"

"It seemed that Booth had quite the influence over the owner as he had managed to procure the theatre for our enjoyment on an exclusive basis. He laid out a picnic dinner for us as well, and brought me that organic chocolate-chip cookies I preferred."

"Oh honey." If words could make a grown woman melt, Angela would've been a puddle on the floor. "That's absolutely romantic. Did you invite him up?"

"Yes I did." Brennan's eyes softened in memory. "But he said not yet. He said that he wanted to make our first time memorable, and he didn't want to have sexual intercourse after the first date because he wanted to court me."

Angela arched an eyebrow. "And you're okay with that?"

"With what?"

"Well, I mean - I know you. Not as much as Booth knows you, since obviously you guys are tight and all, but I know you. And the Temperance Brennan I know would never allow herself to be courted by a guy. You're all independent this and assertive that, and somehow I find it odd that you're allowing Booth to sweep you off your feet and all that romantic stuff. Not that I wouldn't mind him sweeping me off my feet and all that, but you know what I mean?"

"I... am actually not sure of what you mean." Brennan leaned forward and looked at Angela curiously. "From what I understand, you're inquiring whether or not I feel disenfranchised that Booth is the one who is dictating where this relationship is going, since you seem to have this cognizant image of me as someone who asserts her independence on a number of levels, including my personal sexual satisfaction and romantic activity. Am I correct?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds like something straight out of a scientific journal." Angela rolled her eyes. "Sweetie, I'm just worried. This is a big thing between the two of you. I just want to make sure you're okay. Because if you break that man's heart just because you suddenly get cold feet..."

"Ah, you mean if I suddenly become nervous or unsure about this courtship, am I correct?"

"Yeah, Bren. Because you have a tendency to run when you're scared. In fact, the last time you were so scared you had to go halfway around the world and Booth had to fall in love with someone else just so that you could get your head on straight."

"I must admit that it was incredibly uncomfortable being away from Booth and from the Jeffersonian at the time, and I realize that a number of personal factors contributed to my decision to leave DC when I did. However, the distance also allowed me to assess my emotional state with regards to Booth, and have come to the conclusion that I do have feelings for him that far outweigh what I have ever felt for anyone else that I have encountered in my life. This led me to the thought that perhaps this could be love, and that perhaps I have been mistaken in my decision to tell him that I am unable to change. After all, anthropologically speaking, organisms have to change and adapt in order to survive, and I am no exception to that." She spied the surprised look on Angela's face and attempted to address it. "I do make mistakes, Angela. I'm not infallible."

Angela sprung from her seat and threw her arms around Brennan. "Oh sweetie, you've come such a long way. I'm so proud of you."

"As soon as you're done manhandling Bones, Ange, I'd like a word with her."

Both women turned around to see Booth leaning casually against the door frame., flipping his poker chip in the air.

Angela gave him a grin and a surreptitious thumbs up as she gathered up her things from Brennan's desk and sauntered out the door. "Remember, guys, the walls are made of glass," she said cheekily as she sailed past the FBI agent. Brennan rolled her eyes and attempted to curb the fluttering feeling in her stomach as Booth closed the door behind him and walked towards her desk.

"Do we have a case, Booth?" _Breathe in, breathe out. It's just Booth._

"Nope." He perched on the edge of her desk, his long legs sprawled on her carpeted floor. He leaned forward, his hands braced on the desk, his face mere centimeters away from hers. "Bones."

"Yes?"

"I need to ask you a question."

"Is it a work-appropriate question or shall we go somewhere else for this discussion?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Good idea. Let's grab some breakfast at the diner."

"But I just got here."

"It's okay." He stood up and pulled her out of her chair. For a moment, she tipped over and lost her balance, and found her face suddenly planted on Booth's chest. His arms automatically wrapped around her. She took a deep breath, nuzzling against his well-defined pectorals. His scent assaulted her, and she felt a warm flush travel down her belly. She looked up - Booth was staring at her with a tender expression on his face, his brown eyes warm and welcoming. Shifting, he pulled her up for a proper hug, his arms immediately settling on their familiar place around her back, his hands tracing her spine. She allowed her own arms to encircle his body, to feel as though he was the universe inside her embrace. She attempted to bite back the emotion swelling inside her. _I am not afraid. I am not afraid of this_.

"Hey, Bones," he said quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest. She pressed her cheeks against it, feeling the vibrations of his words. "You all right?"

"It's just... I feel... "

She felt his arms tighten around her. "That's right, Bones, You're _feeling_ something. You even named it - you said it's love. Isn't that right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm not scared, you know," she said against his chest. For some reason, she couldn't seem to look him in the eye.

"But the fact that you could admit it, and not run away? That's a big thing. And I'm proud of you for standing your ground."

"Angela said the same thing earlier."

"Well, Angela's a smart girl. And a good friend."

"She is."

"And besides, I promised you that I'll hug you whenever you're scared or sad or frightened, remember?" She smiled against the silk fabric of his tie at the warmth of Booth's words. "I'm just keeping my promises."

She tightened her grip around him wordlessly.

"Come on, babe, I'll take you to the diner and you can have that strawberry fruit bowl you always seem to enjoy. We need to talk, anyway. Nothing major, I promise," he added, feeling her stiffen underneath his touch. "Just, you know, stuff."

"You are incredibly imprecise sometimes, Booth," she said, finally stepping away from his embrace. For a moment, she felt bereft, as though he had been able to keep all her fears and insecurities at bay as long as she was in his arms. But the moment passed, and she retrieved her bag from under the table and took his hand as they walked out of her office.

Neither noticed how each and every employee in the lab stared at them as they took in the very simple fact that Booth and Brennan walked out of the room hand in hand.

* * *

If someone had told Booth a year ago that he would have the most beautiful woman in the world in his arms, he would've scoffed and said that the dude was either drunk, high, or blind - or a combination of all three. But the truth was, he never dared hope that it would all end up the way he always imagined it to be. After Brennan had broken his heart at the steps of the Hoover, after standing underneath the hot desert sun with the desire to fight for his country and forget his pain, after those hot, sticky nights under the sheets with Hannah - his vision of what the future was had slowly started to change.

But then she told him she loved him.

And that sent him into a spiral - one that made him want to stand on top of the Hoover, shout his name to the wind, pump his fists and run a victory lap for good measure - and that vision that he thought he'd lost that sultry summer night, with tears in his eyes and dust in his mouth, it suddenly came roaring back to life with the intensity of a hurricane.

But she was still Brennan, and that meant a lifetime of baggage - not that he was free from encumbrances either. He had a son out of wedlock, for God's sake, and most women generally ran _away_ from that kind of baggage. His hands were stained with the blood of men and women he was ordered to kill. He was the product of a violent household. Past the face and the badge and the gun, there was nothing he could offer a woman.

But Brennan was different. She _knew_ about his past as a sniper, accepted Parker as though he was her own and sought to improve on his inherent intelligence and curiosity, and even though he sprang Hannah on her like a loaded gun, she was still as supportive and kind a friend as she could be. She filled in the little holes and cracks inside him with her sensibility and kindness and her own unique brand of humor. She saw the world a differently from him, and her perspective on situations improved his own ability to read and discern the actions of people around him. As they crossed the road towards the Royal Diner, her hand still twined around his, he realized: _She makes me a better man_.

Followed by: _So don't screw this up, Seeley._

They slid into their usual table by the window. Except that this time, Booth followed Brennan so that they sat side by side, the plastic-wrapped menus in front of them forgotten as he leaned over to kiss her hungrily. Her hand slid across the back of his neck to pull him closer, her small little teeth nipping at his lips as he opened his mouth to allow her access. She tasted of morning coffee, sweet and acrid, her warm, talented tongue laving at the surface of his skin as she deepened the kiss. When they surfaced for air, the diner staff spontaneously burst into applause. Booth felt his ears turn pink; beside him, Brennan seemed to be unduly curious about the state of her nails.

Their regular waitress, Sally, walked over to take their orders. Her eyes sparkled with delight. "I take it you two will have your usual?"

"Yes, although Bones here wants your strawberry fruit cup on the side as well."

Brennan looked up from her examination of her fingernails. "And Booth should have orange juice. He already had two cups of coffee this morning."

Booth cocked a curious eyebrow at her as Sally gathered up the menus and pocketed her order pad. "I just want you two to know how happy we are you're finally together. Plus, it also means I'll be pocketing $200 tonight after my shift ends, so your breakfast's on me." She shuffled back to the kitchen, handing their order slip to the fry-cook.

"What did she mean by that?" asked Brennan.

"I think she was trying to say that we're getting a free meal on her because she won a bet."

"What were the terms?"

"I think _we_ were the terms of the bet."

Brennan's eyes widened. "They were betting on us?" There was an undercurrent of indignation in her tone.

Booth rolled his eyes and slung one arm across the back of her chair so that his fingers could play with the strands of her hair. "Hey, relax. I guess it's safe to say people like us, if they're so concerned about our relationship. And speaking of relationships..."

"Actually, Booth." She trained her intense blue eyes on him, allowing his hand to trail the back of her blouse, following the curve of her spine through the thin cotton fabric. "I would actually want to discuss our relationship before we proceed any further."

A slight hint of a smile played at the corners of Booth's lips. "And which relationship is this, Bones?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Um, us? You and me? I assumed since we both declared mutual affection and admiration of each other, not to mention our increasing physical compatibility, we were in a... you know."

"I'm not a mind reader here, Bones, you gotta help me out."

A flush of color crept up her cheeks. "You know I don't like labels, Booth."

"And you know that I need you to be able to define who we are to each other."

"Why me?"

"Because, Bones, I already told you how I felt about you. And you told me what you felt about me. Now put two and two together..."

"I fail to see how a simple arithmetic problem relates to our relationship."

Now she was being deliberately obtuse. "Bones, stop that. You know what I'm trying to say here."

"And I think your need for labels is juvenile and unnecessary."

_Oh Lord, give me strength_. "All right, so when we go to, say, a party. Do we arrive together or separately?"

"Together. I'd assume if it was a common acquaintance you would want to pick me up from my apartment or vice versa."

"And if we were introduced to someone new at that party, how would you want me to introduce you? As my _friend_? My _partner_?"

Sally brought their breakfast at the table, gave them both a cheery wave, and returned to her place behind the counter. Immediately, Brennan scooped up half of her strawberries to Booth's plate, while he expertly maneuvered around his pancakes, slicing the stack into quarters and placing them on Brennan's plate. He doused his share with syrup and sugar, while she simply poured a small dollop of maple syrup at the side of her plate and using the pancakes to carefully wipe it off. He traded his orange juice for her coffee, and she silently offered a spoonful of muesli to him, which he ate off her spoon. They traded their food back and forth until Brennan placed her fork down on the plate and surveyed her partner thoughtfully.

"I would like you to introduce me as your romantic partner," she said simply.

"Are you still against this entire monogamy thing? I seem to remember a while back that you were very clear about not wanting to be with just one man."

She took a sip of orange juice. "Yes, and I still believe that on an anthropological level, human beings are driven to procreate and the social construct of monogamy limits that inherent drive. However, you are not just 'any man', Booth. And I find that I would be loathe to share you with any other female. I find myself... territorial around you, although I do not understand why."

Booth grinned. "It's because you love me."

She sighed. "Are you going to use that against me now?"

"No. No, no, no. But tell me, Bones, how many of your former... romantic partners did you actually love?"

She cocked her head to the side for a moment, trying to remember. "I do not actually recall saying those words to any of my sexual liaisons. And even though Michael and I actually carried on quite a passionate affair back when I was doing my doctorate, I don't think I ever said that to him. It's very odd. I usually remember these kinds of things."

"Which means that I'm the only romantic partner you've actually confessed that you love."

"You're making it sound like I'm some kind of character in a Victorian novel. I did not 'confess' that I love you; I stated it as a fact. The fact is, Agent Booth, I love you."

"And not just in an 'atta-boy' kind of way?"

She pressed her syrup-covered lips to his in response. "No."

"Then you know what that means, right Bones?"

"What?"

"I'm your _boyfriend_. And that's how you'll be introducing me to those fancy-ass shmucks at Jeffersonian parties now. And you're my _girlfriend_. That means that whenever someone attempts to take a peek at your cleavage, I have every right to deck them."

Brennan pulled back from his loose, one-armed embrace and returned to her breakfast. For a moment, Booth thought that she was going to run. _Nice work, Seeley boy. You know how skittish she is at things like this. Way to break the ice_. He tilted his head to look at her closely. She had a spoonful of strawberries in her mouth, and was chewing thoughtfully. "You know," she said conversationally, as though he wasn't ready to bang his head on the wall, "I find that I am actually comfortable with this. I had assumed that I would be fearful of such labels, since it denotes possession and ownership, and people are most definitely not chattel. However, when you say it like that, I am discovering that I actually enjoy your male posturing and your alpha-male tendencies around me."

"You gotta speak in English, Bones. Throw me something I can understand."

Her blue eyes glinted as she smiled. "It means that yes, Booth, I consent to being your girlfriend, no matter how antiquated and juvenile that title might seem."

He laughed. "That's great, Bones, because I'm totally looking forward to being your boyfriend."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, that was dialogue-heavy, since I figured that both of them had to be sure whether or not they were on the same page, relationship-wise. At least this clears the air between them. So what did you think? More dialogue, less description - or do you want the hot and heavy stuff already? Next up - the second date! Any guesses as to what item Booth will be returning to Brennan next from that magic box?**

**Again, reviews are love! The more reviews I get, the faster the next date's going to roll...**


	3. An Open Book

**Title**: Learning Curves

**Rating**: Still a T. Apparently, Booth has excellent *ahem* control.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Bones_. I wish I did, but I don't. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX, and various affiliates.

**Author's Notes**: I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I've been battling the flu for the past couple of days, so instead of writing, I've been holed up in bed with sheets of tissue, Panadol, and Vitamin C for company. Also, my boss has been away for the past week, so I've been doing double the work (without double the pay, LOL). But here's a bright, shiny new chapter for you that hopefully makes up for things.

Also, again: **a massive THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU** to everyone who commented, gave positive reviews, and put this story on alert. I appreciate your encouragement. You guys are the reason that I write. :) Aside from awesome sexytiemz with Booth and Brennan, of course.

* * *

It was a picture-perfect spring day. Trees rustled in the quiescent breeze. A scattering of birds soared in formation across the bright blue sky. Clouds scuttled across the horizon, white cotton-candy wisps that were scattered by an errant breeze. On the steps of the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab, the forensics team lounged on the steps, enjoying a quiet lunch break. Angela sat beside Hodgins, sharing a baguette, some shaved prosciutto, and Gruyere from a paper bag. The couple traded a split of burgundy, still cold from having been stored in Hodgins' freezing unit in the Ooky Room.

Cam sat a little bit above the married couple, her designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, slowly chewing through a turkey sandwich from the cafeteria at the museum. Beside her, Brennan dug into her salad with relish, enjoying the crisp texture of the lettuce leaves alongside the sweet mandarin wedges sprinkled amidst the greenery. Unlike the constant hum of noise and conversation in the lab, out in the sprawling gardens of the Jeffersonian, there was nothing to remind them that their jobs dealt with death - not in the face of so much life unfurling right before their eyes.

A lone man, dressed in black, walked across the gardens like a mirage, a shadow rising from the mists. His hands were in his pockets, his tie streaming behind him like a pennant, a banner calling them to arms. As he approached the team, he slid off his sunglasses and surveyed them quietly. Even the wind dropped. Trees stopped the rustle of their branches. Only a single caw from a distant crow was brave enough to break the silence.

It was his girlfriend who broke the mood. "Do you want a mandarin, Booth?" she asked, the piece of fruit speared on her plastic fork.

He shrugged and grinned. "Sure, why not?"

The team shot him surreptitious glances as he took the fork from Brennan and slowly bit into the bright orange wedge. They had no idea what happened between the two of them ever since Booth took Brennan out for breakfast a week past, but it didn't escape the three pairs of eyes that something had shifted - subtly, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. That movement in a forward direction, the slow tipping of a spinning top as it succumbed to gravity. There were certainly more lingering glances - over the mangled remains on the forensics platform, the pieces of a Civil War soldier anatomically laid out on the table in the Bone Room, even as they discussed a case with Cam in autopsy. There were more touches - a guiding hand to the elbow, a protective palm to the small of the back, fingers slowly running down the exposed skin at the back of the neck. And they weren't shy about it. It seemed as though they relished the audience, oblivious to the curious gazes of their colleagues.

"So what brings you here, Seeley?" Cam asked, taking a long drink of her Evian. "Case?"

He gave her a disarming smile. "I just wanted to see my friends, _Camille_. Nothing wrong with that."

"You mean you wanted to see Dr. Brennan," she teased, a glint in her dark eyes.

"Yeah, dude," chimed in Hodgins. "Usually you want to wring our necks whenever you see us."

"I'm fairly certain Booth can't wring _my _neck," added Angela, grinning. "Brennan would kill him if he tried, right, sweetie?"

"Hmm?" The forensic anthropologist glanced at her best friend. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Cat got your tongue, Bones?" asked Booth.

"I'm fairly certain that that if a domestic feline ever got a hold of the primary organ for mastication, it would eat it, because cats are scavengers. However, since there are not stray cats allowed on the Jeffersonian grounds, I can inform you with certainty that they did not get my tongue, nor any other tongue."

"Ew," muttered Angela, picking off a sliver of pale pink prosciutto from her baguette and giving it to her husband. "Not while I'm eating lunch, Bren."

"So have you thought about it, Bones?" asked Booth, trying to steer the conversation away from any talk about masticated body parts and scavenging domestic animals.

"I must admit it sounds like an interesting idea. But I'm not sure I can just abandon my responsibilities to the lab at a moment's notice," she said thoughtfully, chewing on a piece of lettuce.

"And what is this about this time?" asked Cam, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh," she said, turning to her boss, "my publisher wants me to go on a one-week book tour to promote my book. It will be in New York, so I would be required to fly out. However, I informed them it would be ill-advised to leave DC as of the moment, given that our work is quite important."

"Apparently, Bones here thinks that murderers won't be able to leave us alone for a week," added Booth, leaning back on his elbows and admiring the graceful curve of his partner's neck.

"Nice use of the pronoun there," commented Hodgins with a knowing smirk. Booth glared at the entomologist before nudging his partner.

"Well, you do have quite a lot of accumulated vacation days, Dr. Brennan," said Cam slowly. She might not be a mind reader, but she had a feeling she knew where Booth was headed with this. The man might do subtle passably well, but she'd known him since they were teenagers, and knew that look in his eyes when he was planning something. _Oh well, Brennan deserves it anyway_. "You are aware, of course, that it's mandatory that you finish out those vacation days before July, yes?" _Totally making that one up, Cam_. She squashed the little voice in her head, trying to inject as much administrative bravado in her words.

"See, Bones! You _need_ to take a vacation."

"Technically, it wouldn't be a vacation, Booth. I will still be working, albeit in a different manner." She huffed and raked a hand through her auburn waves. "I do not like publicizing my books, at any rate. I would prefer talking about my _real_ work. The Maluku Islands discoveries are far more important than whether or not Kathy and Andy are currently having intercourse."

"Yes sweetie, but let's face it: you enjoy writing those books," teased Angela. "It lets you release all that pent-up _tension_ you have."

Brennan rolled her eyes at Angela's implications. She snuck a glance at Booth, who seemed to be enjoying the quiet afternoon and held no interest in their discussion.

"Anyway, Dr. Brennan, I strongly suggest you take this opportunity to go on this book tour," encouraged Cam. "That way, you won't be wasting your vacation days and I won't have to deal with a mountain of paperwork in triplicate. And if anything comes up, we'll be sure to let you know, but in the meantime, I'm certain that Dr. Edison will be more than capable in handling the Limbo cases right now."

"All right." Brennan finished the last of her salad and stood up, dusting the seat of her jeans. "Perhaps we should go back to the lab? If I am to take part on this book tour, I should probably finish the paperwork on our last case." She nudged Booth's leg with the tip of her boot. "Are you coming?"

He sprang up from the steps and gave her a grin that, if she was being honest to herself, made her knees weak and her heart pump faster. "All right! Come on then, girlfriend mine, let's get on with our paperwork." And with that, the partners climbed up the steps towards the Jeffersonian, leaving three incredibly baffled people in their wake.

_Girlfriend?_

_

* * *

_

It was approaching seven in the evening when Brennan fired off her last email of the day, stretched her neck experimentally to work out the kinks, and shucked off her lab coat. Booth had departed earlier, with a kiss on her lips and a promise of dinner, and she wanted to make it back to his apartment before he finished up all the spring rolls and Yuengling.

Only to be stopped in her tracks, en route to the sliding glass doors of the Medico-Legal lab, by her three friends. Angela had her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed in irritation. Hodgins looked amused, as though he was looking forward to the ensuing fireworks. Cam was wearing a not-so-secretly amused smile, her dimples making her look younger than she really was.

"Girlfriend?" asked Angela.

"I'm sorry, which part of that was unclear?" Brennan knew this was coming, was perfectly aware that Booth was preparing to slip that one past their friends, but she still felt as though she didn't want to share this lovely, private thing between them. Still, like a bandage on a wound, it was best to just rip it off and get it over and done with. "I believe that, according to social conventions, when two people are prepared to enter in a monogamous romantic relationship, they refer to each other by such titles. Of course, I find them juvenile and inaccurate, but they seem to best encompass my current status with Booth. Are there any more questions?"

"Not at all, Dr. B," said Hodgins as Angela sputtered like a volcano running out of steam. He reached out and pulled his wife towards him, steering her back into her office as she attempted to form coherent words.

"Congratulations," said Cam with a wide smile, as she and Brennan watched Hodgins take Angela away. "Glad to know you've finally done it."

"Oh no," said Brennan, sauntering away. "We've not had sexual intercourse yet." She walked past the doors of the lab and sailed off to the parking lot, her dark hair bouncing as she exited.

"Of course," sighed Cam. "That was exactly what I wanted to know."

* * *

"Is it always going to be like this?" asked Brennan as she curled up beside Booth on his couch, the remnants of Chinese takeaway littering his coffee table, amidst sports magazines and scattered bills.

"Always like what?" He reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer for a kiss. She tasted of spring onions and sesame oil and sweetness, which made him smile against her lips.

"Like this." She gestured to the two of them. "Domestic. Quiet. Comfortable."

"Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to be prepared."

"For?"

She shrugged as she settled easily against him. "Inevitabilities."

"Hey. Bones." His voice was soft, rumbling in his chest. "Talk to me. What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing, Booth." She gestured to the TV set in front of them. "Do you want to watch something? I've noticed that in a lot of popular culture, many meals are usually associated with this activity."

Booth slowly nudged her downwards on the couch, so that they were lying on their sides, heads supported by the armrest, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He nuzzled the slope of her neck, his lips pressing tender kisses against the pale, soft flesh. "Babe," he whispered, "stop stalling. What's going on?"

She attempted to be irritated at his manhandling of her; instead, she felt a comforting warmth bloom inside her, coupled with the low ache of desire coursing in her center as he insinuated his thigh between her legs, applying just enough pressure to maintain the need she could feel running through her veins. "I'm just... I've never felt like this before," she confessed, angling her face in a wordless request for a kiss. "And a part of me is frightened. What if we're only like this in the beginning? What if we start fighting, start hating each other. Our fundamental views on life are so different - we're such different people, Booth. What if we start taking each other for granted?"

She felt him tighten his embrace around her, felt him bury his nose into the dark forest of her hair. "Do you really think that will happen, Bones? Deep down inside, do you really think that will happen?"

"Sometimes. There's no certainty in the future."

"So let's just take the present as it is. We're not doing anything we haven't done in the past six years, you know."

"Except for the kissing part."

"Mmmhmm." He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. "That's the best kind of change, baby."

"And the making love part. Which we haven't really gotten to yet."

"All in good time, Bones. All in good time."

She settled against his bulk, enjoying the feel of his body behind hers. He planted kisses along the exposed flesh of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the proud arch of her jaw. The hand around her waist slipped underneath the hem of her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her stomach, dipping briefly into her belly button before meandering across the expanse of her belly. She pressed against him, feeling the throb of his erection against the thin fabric of her pants. "Is tonight a good time?" she asked huskily, looking at Booth through half-lidded eyes.

"Bones," he groaned, grabbing her hips and pulling her flush against him. "Feel that? That's what I've been controlling for the past six years. Seven, if you count that year we were apart after our first case." He nipped the soft lobe of her ear, feeling her writhe against him, a low moan escaping her pink-kissed lips. "You do that to me all the time, Bones. All the _fucking_ time. And if I've managed to maintain that for years, babe, do you really think that we are going to change who we are to each other?"

She gasped as he pressed himself against the half-moon curve of her ass, bucking once to alleviate the building pressure. "No... ah, you're such a tease, Booth... I want..."

"That's right, Bones, you _want_. For once, you're actually giving in to what you want, and what I want, and when I'm inside you, I swear, babe, you'll be seeing stars."

"Cocky words, Booth." She grinned up at him. "Care to prove your belt buckle was right all along?"

He attempted to maintain his control over his libido - he'd never come in his pants after high school, and he damn well won't be doing that now. If anything, he'd only do it buck naked and with Bones writhing underneath him, a gorgeous hellcat in lace (or leather), sheathed fully inside her body."Bones... not tonight. I told you. I want to court you."

She rolled her eyes. "Why did I even agree to that in the first place? It's antiquated and only asserts the injustices and unfairness of a patriarchal society."

"Or maybe - and here's a novel thought, Bones - it's because I actually want to show you that I'm playing for keeps. That you and me, we're not going to change just because we've seen each other naked - "

"I have, actually, seen you naked."

" - and that whatever happens, I will love you." Booth looked into her sparkling blue eyes. "Really, that's what you want to latch on to? That you've seen me naked?"

"It was very impressive, Bones."

"Oh really now?"

"Yes. I find that I am irrationally attracted to your choice of bathroom reading material."

"Ha ha, very funny, Bones." His erection had settled down to a manageable state, and he luxuriated in the comfort of his partner in his arms.

"I told you, Booth, I've learned to be amusing." She elbowed him. "You should learn to laugh at my jokes now."

"I'll pick up a book tomorrow, okay? _A Dummy's Guide to Laughing at Bones' Jokes_. How's that?"

"Speaking of books, Booth," she said, twisting around so that her head was cradled on his bicep, their legs tangled around each other's, "I'd like you to come with me on the book tour."

"Wait, you want me to come?"

"Well, yes." She squeezed his arm, the one that was currently taking on residence across her stomach. "I thought since you're my boyfriend now, you'd want to go on an out-of-town trip with me."

"Hmm. Not sure if my wallet can handle a trip to New York on a whim right now, Bones. I just paid my share of Parker's tuition, not to mention the soccer sports camp..."

"That won't be a problem, Booth. My publisher's given me a very generous allowance for agreeing to do this book tour. I suspect they were quite pleased I said yes."

"Bones! Part of courting you is actually _paying_ for stuff, you know."

"Would it offend your alpha-male sensibilities if I paid for this trip and you can pay for whatever we do in New York City that has nothing to do with the book tour? I suspect you'll want to take me to a nice restaurant, or to a Broadway show, or a carriage ride in Central Park... these are acceptable romantic overtures for courtship, isn't it?"

Booth laughed and hugged her. "Yes, Bones. God, even though you make dating sound so squinty, I still find it sexy."

"I told you," she said, reaching to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him down for a kiss, "I learn very fast."

"Very fast indeed," he whispered, losing himself into her kiss.

* * *

Eric was only on his second week with his new company when he learned that he was assigned to be Temperance Brennan's assistant. _The_ Temperance Brennan, famous forensic anthropologist who had recently returned from the Maluku Islands with more knowledge about the missing link between humans and... well, whatever came before humans. She single-handedly took over the _New York Times_ Bestseller List with her latest book, and he was in charge of making sure that she and her guest (Matilda was very clear that Dr. Brennan was coming with a guest - office gossip confirmed that he was the real-life inspiration behind the delicious FBI Agent Andy Lister) were comfortable in their hotel, and were on time for their appointments. It was the usual tour, as far as he understood it: hitting Borders and a few of the independent booksellers around the city, dropping by the New School over at Greenwich Village for a reading and round-table discussion, and a publishers' dinner at The Plaza.

And so he met the dark-haired anthropologist at the airport with sweaty palms and the general hope that he wouldn't pee in his pants. Beside him, the uniformed chauffeur stood impassively, the cardboard sign in his hands reading "Brennan & Co."

They were the last to disembark from the plane. She looked exactly the same as the back of her novels' dust jacket - maybe a bit more slender, definitely more tanned, and with a different hair style that made her look younger and, consequently, more alluring. Beside her walked a handsome man with broad shoulders and warm brown eyes, pushing their luggage-laden trolley past airport security. Both of them were dressed casually for New York City - she was wearing tight jeans that showed off her long legs, a wine-colored button down dress shirt that did nothing to hide her curves, and calf-length black boots. He was in a green Army jacket, a black-and-white U2 t-shirt, and sneakers. Eric gulped. He didn't expect them to look like they stepped out of the pages of a magazine.

It was the man who first spotted the sign, and nudged Brennan in their direction. Eric managed to keep his voice from trembling, and he was torn between dropping to his knees and worshipping at the temple of Temperance Brennan, or fleeing for his life at the glare that was sent his way by Agent Booth. (Seeley Booth, he remembered fleetingly, for whom her second novel was dedicated to.) Still, he was proud for keeping his cool - he managed to instruct the chauffeur to handle their baggage, led them to the parking lot and into the limo the publishing company had hired for their star author.

"Sweet," complimented Agent Booth, running his hand across the plush seats and stretching his long legs. Champagne was served, a toast was made, and the itinerary discussed as the car wound its way towards downtown Manhattan. They were booked at the Chelsea Hotel; Booth started humming the Joni Mitchell song as Eric briefed Brennan about the book tour schedule. He was happy that his voice did not rise above its normal octave level, and that his sweaty fingers didn't leave marks on the printed-out itinerary sheet.

Once they were booked and settled into their suite, Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Now, if only the rest of the week proved to be as smooth-sailing as the afternoon, he might actually survive.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know - I promised the second date, but somehow, this thing kinda took on a life of its own and I can't. Seem. To. Make. It. Stop. Anyway, not to worry. The second date - and the second item Booth will be returning - is on its way. Any guesses? **

**Yes, of course, it has something to do with books. ;)**

**As usual, comments, reviews, and even suggestions for future dates are most definitely welcome. Like I said, your lovely reviews are the fuel to my fire, so keep 'em coming!**


	4. And I'll Strive To Please You

**Title**: Learning Curves (4/?)

**Rating**: Moved to M for sexual situations.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Bones_. I wish I did, but I don't. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX, and various affiliates.

**Author's Notes**: Thanks for being patient while this next chapter languished in my hard drive for awhile. I've had a bit of difficulty with this chapter, since I actually wasn't sure where it would actually end. Still, I feel that it ends in a good place, with a promise of things to come. :) My fabulous beta, the Mysterious Lady S, was also very helpful in providing me with insights regarding the story and where it could go from here.

I'd also like to thank everyone who put in a kind word or two, put this story on alert and on their favorite lists. I can tell you right now that my initial outline for this story was ten chapters, but it looks like we're in it for the long haul. So sit back, relax, and make sure your seatbelts are buckled correctly. :)

* * *

Sunlight streamed from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The muted light wavered across the room, filtered by a thin muslin curtain that afforded the occupants on the bed a semblance of privacy from the hustle and bustle of the city below. Brennan was lying on her side, her hair spread across the pristine white pillows like auburn wildfire; Booth was on his stomach, his face half-buried in the soft cotton, an arm carelessly flung across Brennan's waist. The thick embroidered duvet was folded at the foot of the bed, the pale blue sheets kicked down to their thighs. A stray pillow was on the floor, unnoticed, possibly pushed from the bed in the middle of the night.

The clarion ring of the phone woke Booth up first. He quietly disentangled himself from a still-sleeping Brennan and reached over to the nightstand to answer it. "Good morning! This is your seven o'clock wake up call!" said a chirpy voice on the other end of the line.

"Thanks," he mumbled, placing the phone back on its cradle. He sat up on the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He hadn't slept like that since... well, since he got back from Afghanistan. He strongly suspected it had something to do with the woman currently sleeping beside him - she had her back turned to him, the graceful curve of her waist and hips silhouetted in the pale sunlight. It was almost summer, but there was still a nip in the air, as though the last vestiges of spring refused to release the warmth of the summer months. He reached down and pulled the sheets upwards, covering her shoulders from the slight chill in the air.

They were almost there, he knew - almost at the precipice of free-falling into each others' arms. She was his fantasy turned into a tantalizing reality. And he would be damned if he messed up the best thing in his life.

It took all his willpower not to grind his morning erection into the pliable flesh of her buttocks, so he hauled himself off the bed and walked barefoot to the en suite bathroom, intending to run a cold shower and start the day. Brennan would be whisked off to her first book signing at nine in the morning, which left them more than enough time to grab breakfast before the chauffeur arrived.

The baroque, turn-of-the-century decor that was still maintained by the historic hotel apparently didn't extend to the bathroom, which had a state-of-the-art shower and steam room, as well as a gorgeously appointed porcelain bathtub. The place was a bit too girly for Booth's tastes, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the history attached to the hotel - he could almost feel the creative energy that fed Dylan, Hendrix, and the Grateful Dead while they stayed here.

He shucked off his sleeping pants and thin cotton shirt, and stepped underneath the shower spray. _Much better than the pressure in my apartment, that's for sure_. Booth stared at the rows of little black knobs at the side of the stall, with helpful labels like "Rainforest" and "Summer Storm". He selected a combination and felt the water jets mounted at the top of the stall pound his body with water, easing the muscles on his back and shoulders that had tensed up in his sleep.

His thoughts drifted back to the woman in his bed - _his _bed, in as much as a hotel room bed was theirs - and he silently thanked the Man Above for his good fortune. Brennan was by no means perfect, and he knew that: she was too stubborn for her own good, had difficulty forming social relationships, and not to mention her poor knowledge of pop culture references. She orbited around her own little world, occupied her own head space, and could be incredibly dense and guarded when she wanted to be. But he managed to peel back the layers of her defenses, pared down her insecurities and replaced them with a sense of belonging. Even Rebecca, who was a firecracker, never allowed him to tear down her walls. But Brennan was different - she fit the jagged parts of him, the cracks and chinks in the armor, held him together like the glue that held together pieces of shattered bone. For years, he wondered why he bothered to help her, to befriend her, to become the crutch she relied on. And now he had the answer. And he was thankful.

After a long lather and scrub, he toweled off and headed to the sink to shave. His heart gave a little jump when he saw how she arranged their bath items - her facial wash and cream on one side, aligned neatly with his aftershave and cologne. He picked up his electric razor, lathered up, and started to carefully run the blade down his chin in long, measured strokes. She once mentioned that he smelled like home to her, and since then, he was even more particular in his morning routine - shave, aftershave, deodorant, cologne. He had always been the type to settle down, he was aware of that; what was different here was that _she_ was the one he wanted, needed even, to settle down with. She had pretty much ruined him for any other woman - and Hannah was just the latest casualty of that.

When his chin and jaw was smooth and clean, he washed off the last bits of foam and stared at his face in the mirror. Booth was not a vain man - he was simply aware of the effect a well-groomed man had, and in his line of work, it was better to be well-groomed than to look like, say Hodgins. He chuckled to himself. The entomologist had cleaned up well since he'd first been involved with Angela - trimmed beard, less white-boy Afro, and it even looked as though he'd cleaned the grime from under his fingernails. _That's what a good woman does to a man - she makes him want to become better without even telling him that she wants him to become a better man._ When he was with Hannah, he would go the occasional weekend without even shaving, much to her dismay. He was slovenly during that time, if he was being honest to himself, simply because he couldn't be bothered to clean up after himself. Sure, he'd shower quickly and maybe break out the hair gel if she wanted to go out for a Saturday night dinner and movie, but he never took the same care with his appearance as he did when he would drop by Brennan's apartment on a Thursday night, carrying Thai takeout and a couple of bottles of beer.

Booth heard the bathroom door open. Brennan padded towards him and wrapped her sleep-warmed arms around his bare torso, pressing her cheek against his back, just between his shoulder blades. "Hey baby," he greeted her, twining his hands around hers and pulling her against him.

"You weren't there when I woke up," she complained lightly.

"Sorry, I thought you needed more sleep time. It's going to be a long day today." He turned around and gave her a hug, planting a soft kiss on the top of her rumpled hair. Sleepy Brennan was always a treat, since he rarely saw this side of her - her dark hair wavy and sleep-tousled, her blue eyes dreamy and guileless, her cheeks still pink from being pressed against the pillows. She looked like a teenager in her tank top and sleep shorts, her breasts unbound by the confines of a bra, her toenails painted a surprising shade of pale pink. "I never took you for a pink girl, Bones," he said, grinning.

"Angela chose that color for me," she said, extricating herself from his arms and puttering around the bathroom, getting her own shower things ready. She was un-self-conscious about her private routine, and Booth was quietly thankful that she chose to share this with him. He had a sneaking suspicion that despite having "co-habited" before, no man had ever entered the innermost sanctum of Temperance Brennan's life. "She said it made my toes look pretty, although I fail to see how nail polish color corresponds to attractiveness."

"Aw, Bones." He walked towards her and took her face gently in his hands, marveling at the softness of her cheeks. She turned to him, her expression softening as he bent down and kissed her. "You're always pretty to me," he whispered when their lips parted.

"Really?" Despite her accomplishments and independence, deep down inside, Brennan was still the awkward and gawky teenager that graced the Burtonsville High School year book. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Always have, always will. Even when you're old and wrinkly and your boobs sag to the floor," he quipped, running his palms quickly across the curve of her breasts, feeling the heft and weight of them in his hands, feeling her nipples pucker beneath the white cotton tank top, darkening underneath the fabric. "You like this?" he asked, his words coming out almost a growl as his thumbs swiped the hard nubs through her tank top. She was melting like ice cream on a hot summer's day, a soft moan escaping her lips. He pressed a hard, demanding kiss against her mouth, knowing that she would reciprocate, her tongue tangling around his, darting into the soft flesh of his mouth, sucking out his very soul with her lips.

Brennan let go of the bottle of shampoo in her hands as she wrapped her arms around Booth, running her fingers across his musculature. His towel puddled around his feet and he was gloriously naked in her arms, his erection jutting proudly against her center. He lifted her up on the bathroom counter, never breaking the connection of their lips, urging her to raise her hands as he removed her tank top. She was lithe and limber in his arms, all curves and cotton-candy softness, and yet with a hint of steel in the way she gripped his hips and yanked him towards her so that his cock firmly settled between her legs, with her shorts as the only barrier. He trailed kissed across her jaw, swirled his tongue in her ear as she moaned and pressed herself against his chest, skin to skin, and licked his way towards her breasts. _Magnificent_, he thought as he took the right one in his hands. It was heavy and warm in his palm, fine traceries of veins barely visible beneath her skin, her puckered nipple a pink star in the middle of a pale universe. He bent down and encircled the sensitive flesh with his lips, stilling her movements and feeling her tremble underneath his feather-light kiss.

"Baby," she whispered, her hands on his shoulders, her knees gripping his torso. "_Please_."

The keening tone in her voice was what undid him. _She never called anyone 'baby' her entire life_. Latching on her breast, he sucked and kissed the puckered nipple, trailing his lips from one breast to another as she twisted her fingers into his hair and urged him to go harder, faster. "I'm not... I'm not going to break, Booth."

He journeyed downward, his lips an unerring compass drawn across the map of her skin, the valley of her belly, the sweet slope of her center. Reverently, he slipped off her shorts, where a dark patch was already visible on the fabric. Her arousal scented the air as she leaned back on the counter, resting her weight on her palms as he slowly parted her knees and pressed his tongue against the most intimate part of her.

She was trimmed and bare, his tongue gliding smoothly across the pink flush of her pussy, parting her nether lips to taste her properly. His thumb pressed against her clit, swollen and slick, his tongue laving her as though she was a particularly delectable dessert served on a silver spoon. She tasted tart and clean, the heat from her core enveloping his tongue as he probed and pushed, while she writhed above him, chanting his name. He slipped a finger inside her, keeping up a rhythm with his thumb against her clit and his mouth against her core, and she pumped against him, her words a mantra, a prayer echoing in his ears as she rose up to the apex of her climax and shattered -

Booth felt her shudder around him, her body strung and notched like an arrow a moment before it takes flight, and then she was collapsing in his arms, boneless and satiated, his name still a whisper on her lips. He gathered her up in his arms, ignoring the insistent throb of his erection, and kissed her, her taste still on his lips.

"Was that a good morning?" he asked, smiling.

She gave him a satiated grin. "I wouldn't need an alarm clock if I woke up like that every morning." She caressed the head of his penis, her fingers stroking the engorged tip gently. "Do you need help? I am told I have very good control of my - "

He cut off her words with a kiss. "I'm okay, Bones. You need to get ready before - _ooooh_..." His own sentence was truncated as she wrapped her hands around him - hands that were able to give back soldiers without a face a sense of their own place, hands that held him when he needed her arms around him, hands that defended him, protected him with their strength - these hands were currently busy stroking him as she maneuvered him against the edge of the counter, slipping down so that she could kneel in front him. And before a protest could escape his lips, she had taken him inside her mouth and he was enveloped in her wet, velvety softness, sucking his very consciousness between her lips. It only took her a few strokes, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other cupping his balls, her mouth providing a glorious counterpoint to the rhythm she had established, before he felt own climax rising like a long-dormant volcano, and he was calling out her name, his body shuddering as he came, for the first time, inside her mouth.

* * *

Brennan smiled at the fifty-year-old lady in front of her, clutching a hardbound copy of _Red Tape, White Bone_ to her chest. "To whom do I write the dedication to?" she asked, her pen poised above the frontispiece of the book.

"To Vivian and Ted," she said, her green eyes glowing with delight as Brennan scrawled a generic dedication addressed to the couple. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I love your books," gushed Vivian as Brennan handed the book back to her.

"Well, I hope you and your husband enjoy it," she replied amiably.

"Oh, my husband's been dead for seven years, but I still read it aloud. He loves mysteries, always wanted to be a detective. But there's not much money in law enforcement, so he had to settle for being an accountant."

Brennan's forehead furrowed. "But if he's deceased..."

"Doesn't mean he's not listening. And it doesn't mean I've stopped loving him." Vivian gestured to the ring adorning Brennan's right ring finger. "Do you have your own Andy Lister, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan smiled, remembering her morning with Booth. He'd decided to walk around the city on his own, promising to text her wherever he ended up. "Yes, but we're not... engaged, or anything of the sort. This ring is a heirloom from my mother, not from him. Our decision to commit is fairly new."

Vivian nodded. "Ah, but I can see from the look in your eyes, he's for keeps, isn't he?"

"Rationally, the notion of remaining faithful to one person goes against our anthropological imperative to procreate - "

"But Dr. Brennan," said the older woman kindly, wisely, "the heart is not rational. It follows its own beat." And with that, the small woman shouldered her bag, shook Brennan's hand, and walked out of the bookstore. There were a few more stragglers after her, but Brennan barely noticed them - simply signed her name on their copies before Eric ushered them away from the table and handed her a water bottle. The bookstore staff, efficient and organized, started packing up the signing table as Eric motioned Brennan towards the staff room, where she could stretch her limbs in private. Her right hand ached from signing books the entire afternoon.

"Are you all right, Dr. Brennan?" asked Eric solicitously.

"Yes," she said absently, still ruminating on Vivian's words. She understood her words both on a literal and metaphoric levels - how many times had Kathy's heart "beat" for Andy when they were standing in the middle of a crime scene, glancing at each other, or when they were making passionate love in the back of Andy's SUV?

She was still lost in thought as Eric led her to the back of The First Page and into their vehicle. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as the car turned down the corner, heading back to Chelsea. It was Booth, informing her that he was returning to their hotel at three in the afternoon, and would she be back by then? Brennan glanced at her watch - 2:23 in the afternoon, according to the silvered angles - and texted back an affirmative. She leaned back against the comfortable back seat, watching the city rush past her in the slanted afternoon sunlight. Behind the tinted windows, she could observe unnoticed, her mind seeking patterns among the ebb and flow of the people on the street, the movement of cars in traffic, the iconic architecture that defined New York City. She had been here countless times, but never with Booth. Never with a lover. She found herself smiling at the thought, awash in memory of the morning with Booth. She'd never come so hard with someone else's tongue and fingers inside her, never enjoyed the give-and-take of taking a man inside her mouth as much as she did this morning. He was skillful, yes, but there was something else behind it - something that made it more than just two people pleasuring each other physically. There was an element of _care_, which she was unfamiliar with. In fact, were she to stretch her thoughts just a bit further, she would classify it as _love_.

The car turned towards one of the boroughs of the city, cutting through traffic. Lost in thought, Brennan almost missed the small shop on the ground floor of a brownstone building, its glass front plastered with brightly colored posters depicting familiar comic book characters - Superman, Batman, Captain America, and of course, Wonder Woman. A memory passed through her head, quick as lightning forking across a darkening sky. "Stop," she quickly requested to the chauffeur. "I need to get something from there." _Follow the beat of your heart_, echoed a voice inside her head. Her feet obeyed.

Eric turned to look at the small shop. "I didn't know you were into comics, Dr. Brennan." The chauffeur slid the car into a parking space next to the sidewalk as Eric bolted out of the car and opened the door for Brennan before she could say anything.

The shop was musty and shadowed. Faded curtains covered the back of the shop, and there was an underlying smell she usually associated with libraries. There were shelves upon shelves stacked with cardboard boxes, lovingly labeled by publishing company and arranged alphabetically. She bypassed the latest issues of _House of M_ and _Justice League_ and walked towards the counter, where a young man wearing a black shirt with a circular emblem of blue, red, and white rings with a star in the center stood, browsing through what looked like a hardcover copy of _1602_. "Hey there, pretty lady," he said. "What brings you here?"

She had known about Booth's choice of reading materials, and had researched extensively, in the privacy of her own apartment, about the narrative of the Green Lantern, seeking to understand her partner's enjoyment of the character. She had also read about this store, and how they carried vintage first copies, still in mint condition. She hoped they still had what she was looking for. "Do you have a copy of _All-American Comics_ #16? The one published in 1940, when the Green Lantern first appeared?"

The boy whistled. "Wow, lady, you've got good taste. You know how much it costs on the market?"

Brennan glanced at her cellphone, where she had stored down the information she needed. "According to my research, over 29,000 dollars." She opened her bag and took out her chequebook. "I'm prepared to offer you 32,000 dollars for that copy."

The boy's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into the fringe on his forehead. "Gimme a second, I need to get my dad." The boy thundered into the back room, calling his father. Minutes later, a heavyset man in his mid-forties appeared, donning on a plaid button-down shirt on top of his oil-stained wifebeater. "Sorry about that," he said, rubbing a hand over his bald pate. "Was fixin' my bike when Jeffrey here said someone wanted to buy _All-American Comics _#16." Behind him, his son affixed Brennan with a worshipful stare.

"Yes, that would be me. Do you still have that copy?"

The man reached behind the counter to unlock a safe. Reverently, he removed the comic book, still in its plastic cover and cardboard backing, and set it down on the counter. Gently, as though he was handling a precious jewel, he slid the comic book from the case and presented it to Brennan. "There you are, lady. First time the world laid eyes on Alan Scott."

She stared at the pristine pages in front of her. The paper was slightly yellowed with age, but the colors were still bright; it was clear that whoever owned this kept it lovingly. With a practiced eye, she could see that it was authentic. She returned it to the owner. "I'd like to purchase it, please."

He nodded. "You offered 32,000, I believe?"

"Yes." She opened her cheque book. "Who do I make it out to?"

There was a pause before he nodded affirmatively. The man, Mr. Dellon, gave her the details and then provided her with both the comic book as well as the authentication documents. She perused the papers, reminded herself to insure the item under Booth's name, and signed the necessary documents for the sale. There was an atmosphere of reverence as the exchange took place. Nobody uttered a word as Mr. Dellon slipped the wrapped comic book in a thick brown envelope along with the signed sale papers and authentication certificates. "How did you find out about us?" he asked as she shook his hand and turned to exit the store.

She turned back and gave him a knowing smile. "I have my contacts, Mr. Dellon."

He laughed - a hearty belly-laugh that made her feel inordinately pleased with herself. "Well, in that case, he's a lucky sonofabitch, lady."

She gave him a wave as she walked out the door. "No, Mr. Dellon, I'm the lucky one."

* * *

Booth was not in their room when she returned. For a moment, she felt disappointed as she walked towards the bedroom. The room provided a safe, and though she had very little confidence in hotel-issued safes, she nevertheless punched in a combination code, placed the comic book inside, and sealed it back up. That would have to do until she found an opportune time to give it to him.

Just as she straightened up, she felt a familiar pair of arms slide around her waist, Booth's nose nuzzling against the curl of her ear. She smiled. "There you are," she said, enjoying his embrace.

He nibbled the outer lobe of her ear. "I had pizza for lunch, but I have to admit, you're a lot tastier than baked cheese and pepperoni."

"That explains your breath, Booth," she teased.

"Yeah, I made out with an extra-large pepperoni pizza while waiting for your ass to come out of the bookstore."

She wrinkled her nose. "No wonder you smell like dead cow."

He laughed as he tugged her towards the door. "Beef eater, Bones. Tasty tasty beef. Now come on, we need to go downstairs. I'm taking you out on a date."

She glanced down at her outfit - sensible dress pants, a pretty pink top with ruffles and lace, and a chunky carnelian necklace. "I don't think I'm dressed for a date, Booth."

He surveyed her outfit. "That's true. Why don't you change into jeans and a pretty top? Oh and bring a jacket - it's nippy out there."

"Where are we going, Booth?"

He grinned. "It's a patented Booth secret. Now come on, babe, get dressed and let's go. Chop chop!"

She rolled her eyes at him as she headed to the bathroom to freshen up and change.

Forty minutes later, she was wearing her favorite pair of skin-tight jeans, comfortable black boots, and a baby blue linen top that highlighted her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled up in a neat ponytail, her dark fringe brushing the edge of her eyes. If she was wearing any makeup, Booth didn't notice - she was flawless in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes blurred. _Stop being the girl in this relationship, Seeley. She's gonna whup your ass if you don't stop bawling like a baby._

"Is this good enough?" she asked, grabbing her white trenchcoat from the hook near the wardrobe and giving a little twirl.

"Perfect, Bones." There were so many layers of meaning in just one word. "Perfect."

Despite balancing on the edge of New York evening rush hour, they managed to get a cab outside the hotel. "Central Park, West entrance, down 81st Street," said Booth as they settled into the backseat, which smelled suspiciously like stale bread.

"Where are we going?"

He laced his fingers around her and gave it a squeeze. "You'll see, Bones."

The arrived at the entrance and slipped into the park. The shift from concrete to greenery was breathtaking. Brennan slipped her arm around Booth's and leaned against his shoulder as they walked down the verdant pathways lined with iron-wrought benches, sunlight dappling through the entwined branches of the trees that bordered the footpath. The air was cool and clean, the grass freshly trimmed, and from beyond the small grove, she could hear the burble of a irrigated pond.

"I'm sure you've been to Central Park, Bones," Booth said presently. She allowed him to steer her, her mind free from encumbrances as they wandered the park. "You can't go to New York without going to Central Park."

She nodded. "It feels different, somehow. I've jogged here, and been here with colleagues for a picnic one summer. But with you... it feels deeper somehow."

He gave her hand, the one wrapped around his bicep, a squeeze. Silently, they made their way past a quiet pond where turtles sunned themselves on the rocks, and finally, past Belvedere Castle, they saw the squat, round building, open to the elements. A line manager stood at the darkened entrance as a line formed outside. Families, friends, couples - everyone was waiting as a young woman in a dark shirt that proclaimed "Shakespeare Lives!" handed out tickets to those in line. Booth and Brennan joined the end of the queue, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that they were the recipients of the last two tickets for the afternoon performance. The girl gestured to the theatre. "It's free seating, so find your place and enjoy the show."

Brennan glanced at the ticket in her hand. "We're watching Shakespeare in the Park?" she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Booth glanced over her shoulder as the line shuffled forward. "Yep, and it looks like my favorite play is on tonight."

"I didn't even know you had a favorite Shakespeare play." Surprise laced her voice. "Or that you read Shakespeare at all."

He gave her a wink. "Just because I never told you about my degree in English doesn't mean I'm an uncultured bore."

She gave him a playful smack on the shoulders. "You said you didn't know what _Paradise Lost_ meant!"

"I was trying to let you, you know, get your squint on at the time." He gave her his patented charm smile, which served little to mollify her. "You know, Viola reminds me of you," he said as they entered the theatre. A moment of shadow, and then they were blinking in the fading afternoon sunlight, following the crowd as they made their way around the semi-circular structure of the ampitheatre, built in the manner of the ancient Greeks' open-air theatres. They sat down in slightly to the left, towards the center of the theatre.

"Why does she remind me of you? I've never pretended to be a man," Brennan asked as they took their seats. People jostled each other, muttering _Excuse mes_ as they stumbled from one aisle to another, occasionally stepping on someone's sandaled toes.

"No, but she was headstrong and independent, and when she lost her brother, she made her way to Illyria on her own and set up her own life without anyone's help. I admired that about her." He nudged her shoulder. "You're supposed to say, 'Thanks, Booth, for that lovely compliment.'"

"Was that even a compliment?" she inquired archly.

"Of course it was!" He rolled his eyes. "You know, sometimes, you should just accept things for what they are."

"I can't do that. I'm naturally curious." Beside them, a young man with curly red hair hushed Brennan as the actors took their places on stage.

Booth gave him his best death-glare, and returned his attentions to Brennan. "I know that," he said, his voice much lower. "But you gotta remember that sometimes, we're all just here to play a part - sometimes by choice, sometimes by circumstance. What was it Shakespeare said? _All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players_. You and me, we play our parts. But being together? We are the sum of those parts."

Brennan grinned at him just as the cues started, and the actors, a tableaux onstage, came to life. "You know, I think I know what you mean."

**A/N: Personally, I'm more of a **_**Midsummer Night's Dream**_** kind of girl, but hey, Viola does remind me a lot of Brennan, except for the cross-dressing part. Also, not to worry - the NYC sojourn will be wrapped up next chapter, and of course Green Lantern will play a part. But what do you think? Are we moving at a good pace, and are the characters still true to the spirit of the show, or do you feel that we need a bit of angst to spice things up? I personally enjoy a happy, fluffy story, but variety is obviously the spice of life.**

**And yes, I know that we never really found out what Booth did for his university degree, so I'm handing him an English Lit degree so that at least I don't sound like a total ignoramus half the time I write this story. Again, mistakes are my own - I've never been to NYC, so if my descriptions are wrong, you can blame Google and Wikipedia for that, among other resources I had to check out. :)**

**Also, I'd like to give a shoutout to these reviewers who actually gave me awesome ideas for future dates. Many, many thanks to LJLanham, Still Stargirl, eitoph, and jsboneslover for their words and ideas. And if you've got a suggestion for future dates (I still have about 5 more to go), feel free to tell me about it. Inspiration comes up the most surprising of places. **


	5. There's A Warm Wind Blowing

**Title**: Learning Curves (5/?)

**Rating**: M for sexual situations.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Bones_. I wish I did, but I don't. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX, and various affiliates.

**Author's Notes**: I'm so sorry for the delay between posts! I've been swamped with work and awful case of writer's block, and though I knew what I wanted to do with this chapter, the words just refused to come. (And I meant that literally.) So as an early present before the season premiere of Season 6, here's the next chapter! :)

Most of it is just filler, really, and I needed to connect things and wrap up this adventure in NYC before we start getting into the meat of things. So apologies in advance if it's not as light-hearted and fluffy as one might expect. Like I said, sometimes the muse has dark days, and this is one of them. Again, many thanks to the Mysterious Lady S for assistance and mad beta skillz!

* * *

There was something about hotel rooms that made Brennan sleep longer than she was used to. Back in her apartment, her body knew the rhythms of the every day: the alarm clock that rang five minutes before seven, allowing her a few minutes to resurface from the depths of slumber, the 'click' that signified that the coffee machine was automatically brewing the day's first cup, a long, warm shower and a quick run-through of the day's wardrobe. Her body knew the steps to this routine dance, but somehow, everything was slightly off-kilter when she stayed in hotel rooms. Especially when she stayed in hotel rooms with someone else in bed with her.

Currently, though, that someone was not occupying his side of the bed - there was a still-warm, Booth-shaped depression on the sheets, which meant that he had most likely just allowed her to sleep in for a while longer. Brennan sat up from the bed, allowing her body to slowly wake up, It was their last day in New York; tomorrow morning, they would be on a plane back to DC, and for a moment, she felt the urge not to return. She never believed in fairytales, not since that day when a social worker stepped inside the Brennan living room and informed the stoic fifteen-year-old that she had to leave the house she grew up in and pack all her things in a small suitcase. The suitcase morphed into a black garbage bag, and then a back pack, and finally she managed to claw her way out of the system and into the Jeffersonian. She knew that her strength lay in her ability to be rational and logical, to be able to compartmentalize and focus her thoughts on the here and now, to push her feelings deep down below layers of science and reason so that her mind was clear and ready to discover the truth - whether it was behind the murder of a child or the victims of a genocide, she was always ready to move past the horrors and find out the truth.

And the truth was that, now, she was unsure how to proceed. Booth had insinuated himself in her life to the point that it was inconceivable to think that he would ever leave. And yet she knew that entropy was a part of the cycle - civilizations rose and fell, languages lived and died, and entire populations were wiped off the face of the earth in a matter of seconds or centuries. She was aware of cycles, of patterns, of an overarching theme in the grand narrative of human history and behavior. And yet, when the thought circled back to Booth, she balked. How could loving someone be so _hard_?

Her eyes fell on a rectangular package on the bed, wrapped in glossy paper. Her name was written across a white card that was taped on the surface of the package. She turned over the package, inspecting the folded corners and neatly taped flaps before removing the card from the envelope and opening it.

_Bones,_ it read in Booth's familiar, looping handwriting, _Thought I forgot about giving you back these things? Of course not. In fact, I brought another item from the box just for this trip. If you remember, I lent this book to you because I thought you might appreciate the whole superhero angle from here. I'm sure there were no comic books in the foster system, but I was hoping to get you a bit more acquainted with popular culture when I lent this to you. I'm not even sure if you ever read it - you never mentioned anything - but I'd like you to have my copy. I brought it with me during my first tour in Somalia, and somehow, it reminded me that even in the midst of war, there is some beauty in the world. Somehow, the God and all the saints in the universe seemed to think I was good enough to show me some beauty - you. You are always beautiful to me. Love, Booth._

Brennan carefully unwrapped the package, her heart constricting in her chest at Booth's words. There was so much left unsaid between them - so many words slipping between the cracks of their silence. She still didn't know much about his history as a sniper, his tour in Afghanistan, the reasons why he sometimes cried in the middle of the night without even waking up. The thick paperback was frayed around the edges, but the print - in watercolors, the shapes vivid and gorgeous despite her cluelessness about art - caught her eye. _Marvels_. She stroked the cover, slightly cracked and warped but nevertheless still held together by tape and love, showcasing a camera lens capturing the blossoming of a man on fire.

He was right - she never managed to read this. She thought that she would be wasting her time. Now, she felt the sudden urge to find what he found in this. Glancing at the clock on the far end of the wall, Brennan realized that she had more than an hour before she had to get ready for the final event of the book tour. Reaching over to grab the phone, she placed a call for room service and settled back into bed, flipping the book open. The images coalesced and shivered, flowing like paint from one image to another, capturing her mind, drawing her inside the pages.

When Booth returned to the hotel after his morning jog, he found Brennan seated cross-legged on the bed, a half-empty porcelain coffee cup perched on the breakfast tray beside her, a croissant in one hand, and a book on her lap. Her dark hair was pulled up in a careless ponytail, and she was still in her tank top and cotton sleep pants that left little to his imagination. She looked up as he came in. "She died," she told him mournfully.

"Aw, baby." Booth came around the bed and wrapped his arms around her. "I suppose you've never read _Little Women_, then."

She looked up from his embrace and rolled her eyes at him. "I find it pointless to mourn for the death of fictional characters. However, for some inexplicable reason, I felt a sense of loss upon seeing how Gwen Stacy died, especially when I juxtapose it with her sense of wonderment upon viewing the invasion of Namor's kingdom." She gestured to the page in front of her, where a bright-eyed blonde girl stared up in amazement at the parade of otherworldly creatures floating above the New York skyline.

Booth grinned. "Now you get it." He sat on the edge of the bed, absently rubbing circles down her back, reveling at the feel of her underneath his fingers. "Anyway, so what's the plan for today?"

"According to Eric's schedule, I am to have an interview with a local radio station, and then the dinner at the Plaza Hotel with some publishing people." She shrugged.

"I thought you hated these things."

"Well yes, but social customs dictate that refusing to attend would be the height of impoliteness."

Booth cocked an eyebrow. "When were you such a stickler for rules?"

"I've always followed the rules," she told him primly. "At least until I met you."

"Which is why your frontal lobe is no longer the size of a raisin."

She laughed. "Are you coming with me tonight?"

"I'm coming with you whether you like it or not, babe." He gave her a wink and sauntered towards the bathroom. "Someone's gotta protect you from the paparazzi."

"I hardly think that photographers will be following me around." She made a face and bit into her croissant with relish.

"You're the hottest thing in this town since Angelina Jolie walked the red carpet, babe. Trust me, the paparazzi will be tripping over themselves to get a photo of you."

"I have absolutely no idea what that means." She paused thoughtfully. "However, I believe that was a compliment, so thank you."

"Atta girl, Bones." Booth slung a towel over his shoulders and gave her his best charm smile. "I guess that means we gotta dress up for tonight."

She waved her hand carelessly. "It's all right. I can call up Eric to rent a tux for you."

"It's all right. You gave me his number. I'll call him up. Don't worry your pretty head about this."

Brennan nodded, already lost in the book that he had given her. He allowed a satisfied smile to cross his face, picked up his phone from the dresser, and sauntered into the bathroom.

* * *

If there was a literary character that Eric could relate to, it would be the White Rabbit. He always felt that he was simply attempting to catch up with deadlines, not to mention the fact that more than one person commented on his ears. It was Friday morning, and he was juggling the schedule of one Temperance Brennan, bestselling author and Eric's current ward. Not that it was getting in easier - the lady in question obviously came with one very dedicated, very frightening FBI agent. Whoever thought that harming literary figures was not a federal offence clearly hadn't met Seeley Booth. Thankfully, the agent was usually invisible during the book signings and meet-and-greet sessions, opting to walk around the city and take in the sights.

Of course, Eric had a feeling that that was the result of an argument between the pair, as he would show up just as soon as she finished these events, like some swooping shadowed avenger. Dr. Brennan, on the other hand, was unflappable and rarely asked for anything that deviated from the schedule. She was introspective and quiet - at least until she started talking about her books and her characters. Then her entire face lit up, her eyes sparkled like stars, and her voice would roll across the audience in a hypnotic cadence, pulling in the attention of the people around her. Eric enjoyed listening to her - she could make the science in her books sound downright _interesting_, as far as he was concerned, and unlike most other crime novelists, she actually had firsthand knowledge of what she was writing about.

_Speaking of the good doctor_, he thought to himself as he heard is cellphone ring. Without looking at the caller ID, he lifted his phone to his ear. The voice on the other end of the line was definitely not who Eric was expecting - it was the kind of voice that brooked no argument, that immediately commanded his attention and left no room for protest or argument. He nodded feebly and answered in the affirmative. After all, he had no choice.

* * *

She'd already departed from the hotel room and was on the way to the radio station. Give or take travel time and the state of gridlock along the main thoroughfares of New York City, he approximated that she would be back after five hours. Plenty of time to prepare.

* * *

_Hey babe. How's the interview going? Did you light up the airwaves?_

Brennan looked at her cellphone screen and smiled. They were on a commercial break, and she had taken the time off-air to check her phone for calls outside the small, padded booth at the radio station. _It's been very interesting_, she replied. _We are moving into the Q and A portion of the interview. Apparently, the station is giving away my books as a prize._

_Awesome_, his reply came back promptly. _Listen, I'll meet you at the lobby of the Plaza, k? Gotta run some errands. Haven't bought anything for Parker yet._

_I understand._ She could see the deejay gesturing her back inside. _I will see you there._ She slipped her phone in her pocket and forgot all about it as she returned to her conversation with the surprisingly literate deejay, and so failed to see Booth's last message: _I love you_.

* * *

"Dr. Brennan," said Eric as soon as they were back in the car and heading back to Chelsea. "I'll have the car pick you up at seven, is that all right?"

Brennan nodded, her hyper-organized mind already running through the tasks she would need to perform tonight in order to appear presentable. Without Angela present, she needed an extra 30 minutes on top of her usual prep time - bath, hair, make-up, dress, shoes. "Yes, Eric. That would be amenable."

Despite the Friday traffic, they managed to make it back to the hotel just before six. Eric gave her the embossed invitations for the dinner, informed her that there would most probably be other literati present at the dinner, and that she should not be concerned - they would be bringing copies of her latest novel for her to sign. Her right hand twinged. If she had to sign her name one more time...

There was a strange sort of silence that pervaded the room once she returned. Having been the target of various serial killers, mass murderers, and run-of-the-mill bad guys, Brennan had taken to the habit of checking every nook and cranny of every hotel room she'd ever been in, knowing that it was better to be just a touch careful rather than getting into trouble. Contrary to Booth's opinion, she did not rush headlong into disaster - she only did that whenever _he_ was concerned. Satisfied that there was nothing hiding in the hotel room except shadows, she checked the safety deposit box - yes, her purchase was still inside. Comforted by her observations, she locked the door again and started her preparations for the evening.

Unknown to her, a different kind of preparation was taking place downstairs, at the lobby of the hotel. Car keys exchanged hands. An envelope was given and received. Calls were made, apologies mouthed as though by rote. A plan was put into action, and at the center of it all was an innocent woman with cerulean blue eyes.

At exactly seven that night, Brennan received a call from the reception desk, informing her that the car was already outside the hotel. She grabbed her clutch and her cellphone, sent a quick text to let Booth know that she was on her way, and then left the hotel room, mentally preparing herself for another evening of socializing. She was by no means a quick study of the minute social cues that accompanied such gatherings, but the anthropologist in her was always ready to step back from the crowd in order to observe, to collect and collate her observations, and act accordingly. Despite her current preoccupation as being the scientist contracted out to the FBI, she still easily fell back on old habits, old ways of thinking.

She slipped into the plush backseat of the rental car, absently thinking about how much she missed the front passenger seat of Booth's SUV. The driver, a silent, indistinct figure, nodded his affirmative as she settled down, elbow leaning against the door handle, chin in hand as she stared out the glittering New York night. The car slid smoothly back into traffic, and she allowed herself to drift off as the car wound its way around the snarls and knots of New York's massive asphalt grid. Exhausted from the week-long trip, the see-saw of emotions when it came to Booth, and not to mention the number of times they almost (_almost!_) had intercourse, she closed her eyes and felt herself dozing off...

Only to realize, twenty minutes later, that they were nowhere near the plaza hotel and instead were winding their way down towards the Bronx. "Hey," she said, struggling to haul herself up from the backseat. "Where are we going?"

The driver made no response; only shook his head imperceptibly as if to say, _This is where we're going_.

"Where are you taking me?" Panic gripped Brennan and she carefully pulled out her phone from her purse and discreetly pressed the '1' key on her speed dial. She hoped that Booth would understand that this was not a prank call. She didn't dare lift the phone up to her ear, in case the kidnapper knew that she was trying to get help. Her mind raced - what was it that her self-defense class taught her about protecting yourself in tight quarters? She kept her hand on the door lever, waiting for the next red light where she could open the door and run for her life. The phone on her lap, half-hidden by the swaths of fabric on her dress, kept on ringing - her only lifeline to Booth. She wished she'd brought her small pistol; unfortunately there was no room in her purse, and she was so sure that it would just be a short ride from the hotel to The Plaza.

Keeping her shoulders and elbows loose, she inched towards the driver, angling herself away from rearview mirror. Trusting to her body's ability to move quickly and decisively, she moved towards the driver's throat and -

A familiar whiff of cologne assailed her senses. She blinked owlishly, taking in the prominent brow ridge, the symmetrical features half-hidden underneath the brim of the chauffeur's hat, the cocky smile that met her surprised gaze. "Heya there, Bones," said Booth. "Surprise?"

She whacked him once with her purse, satisfied at the solid-sounding _thwack!_ it made as it landed on his shoulder. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Booth?" she huffed angrily. "I could have hurt you!"

"Rangers, babe."

"Don't call me babe."

"But you like it when I call you babe."

She glared at him. For an irrational moment, she wished that she could shoot laser beams from her eyes.

"Okay, okay." He turned around and gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to surprise you. We're not going to The Plaza tonight."

She looked at him incredulously. "Booth! My publishers are hosting that dinner tonight. It would be incredibly irresponsible for us not to keep our appointments with them."

"Yes, and you've also been complaining about it the entire week. I'm pretty sure Eric had to drag you kicking and screaming out of the room."

"No," she said primly. "Actually, he had reception call me up."

"Smart guy, that Eric. Anyway, I got him to tell them that you were down with some kind of stomach bug and instead I am spiriting you away for a night of drinks, dancing, and the best dinner New York City can offer." Booth waggled his eyebrows in a comical gesture, and despite her earlier annoyance with him, she found herself returning his grin. "This is the ultimate dine-and-dash, Bones. Ready?"

She laughed. "Are we really doing this?"

"Yeah!" he crowed, thumping on the steering wheel with an open palm.

She grinned, caught up in the swirl of emotion. Gauging the gap between the driver's seat and the front passenger seat, she pitched her purse on Booth's lap, and then half-clambered, half-slid to the front of the vehicle, giving Booth the perfect view of her smooth, creamy skin and mile-long legs ending in the most perfect pair of midnight-black kitten heels. "Whoa, whoa, easy there Bones!" he yelped, simultaneously trying to keep his eyes on the road and covering up the little bits and pieces of Brennan that seemed to cascade from the backseat and on to the front - bits and pieces that Manhattan was most definitely not allowed to see.

Finally managing an upright position in the front passenger seat, and without thought or concern for the onrush of traffic or the fact that Booth was the one who was currently in the driver's seat, attempting to gain some semblance of control from the sudden onslaught of Brennan and silk, she reached out, wrapped her fingers around Booth's nape, and pulled him down for a searing kiss.

* * *

They took their seats in a small alcove, half-hidden by the shadows and the flickering candles in the ornate floral holders. She had a glass of rose, he was nursing a bottle of Yuengling, and they were only partly listening to the local talent - a young man with an appreciation for golden oldies and a rich, velvety voice that complimented his finger work on the acoustic guitar. A small space was set up in front of the makeshift stage. Couples began drifting towards the open floor, fingers entwined, swaying softly to the music.

"Here's something for the new lovebirds out there." The performer leaned into his mic, his voice low and soothing. "An oldie but definitely a goodie." He strummed the first chords. "England Dan and John Foley's hit, 'I'd Really Love To See You Tonight.'"

Booth looked at his partner - his partner in every sense of the word - observing the scene around them. The smoky atmosphere, the dim lightning, the uptown fashion, men and women dancing around each other in that age-old game of attraction. Somehow, he felt his heart lighten that they were no longer caught up in that - the only dance that mattered, as far as he was concerned with, was the dance he would have with Bones tonight. He reached across the small table and tapped her on her bare arm. She turned around, her auburn curls catching the candlelight and trapping them between each shining strand. "Would you like to dance with me, Bones?" he asked quietly,

She gave him a sweet smile - the one that he was slowly coming to realize meant that she was learning what loving meant and how people can express it in a myriad of ways. She accepted his proffered hand and allowed him to lead the way to the small dance floor. Attuned to each other, they slipped into each other's embrace - her hands entwined around his neck, his grip tight around her waist. "Feels like we're at the reunion again," whispered Brennan.

"Yeah, except this time, no need for the Holy Spirit."

She grinned and slowly ground her hips against his. "Definitely not necessary," she whispered as he leaned down to snatch a kiss. His lips were soft and sure against hers, urging her to release reason and control to the wind. _I'm not talking 'bout moving in, and I don't want to change your mind_, sang the boy with the guitar, his voice raspy and sweet against the words of the song, _but there's a warm wind blowing, there's stars around, and I really want to see you tonight_.

"This might be better than dancing to Seal," she admitted when they broke off the kiss.

Booth grinned, their foreheads touching as they swayed to the music, his breath warm and familiar against her cheek. "Hey Bones? Thanks for coming out tonight."

"You're welcome." She rested her head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin emanating from underneath his dress shirt, his arms tightening around her. She felt as though she had always belonged in his arms - and instead of fighting against the notion of being owned by someone, she was slowly starting to realize that it went both ways, that there was no need to let go of her independence or her passions or her space. They were equals in the true sense of the word: partners in every nuance, every hidden crease and meaning. Heat blossomed in her belly, and she knew that she needed to get out of here before she actually tore his clothes off on the dance floor.

"Bones?" His question was pressed against her hair.

She looked up. "I would really like to make love to you tonight, Seeley."

His dark eyes glimmered, and she realized that he had been keeping himself in check the entire week (he'd been doing it for six years, in fact), and that finally, finally she was giving him permission to loosen the grip he'd perfected on himself. _This is what he looked like as a soldier_, she thought, mesmerized by the way his dark eyes seemed to swallow the orbs of light around them, a black hole of desire. They were both out the door in five minutes, in the car in ten, and back at Chelsea even before the clock hit midnight.

"Bones," he panted as they rushed to the elevator doors. Thankfully, there was no one else in the elevator, and Brennan took the opportunity to press herself against Booth until he was between the wall and a very determined forensic anthropologist. She slipped her questing fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, her fingernails scoring his abdomen and lower back. "Baby, we're in public."

She tiptoed and pressed a longing kiss against the side of his neck. "There's no one in the elevator, Booth. Are you being prudish?"

Something in him rose up to the challenge, snarling and growling. "Prudish? I'll show you prudish." His fingers snaked around her wrists and pinned them against the small of her back as he towered over her. This was not the gentle lovemaking he expected - but then again, what was predictable about their relationship, anyway? His lips fastened against hers, and he was licking and sucking, dueling with her tongue, her sharp little teeth etching into the soft flesh of his lips. He pressed her against the opposite wall of the elevator, feeling the cable jerk against their sudden movements. He insinuated a knee between her legs, pressing his thigh against her core as she lifted her hips up, succumbing to the pressure of her desire. They were wildfire and tornado, a natural disaster waiting to happen.

They stumbled towards their room, their lips still attached to each other, arms still gripping for purchase against the onslaught of their own needs. Booth briefly surfaced for air as he slid the keycard into the door slot and urged Brennan backwards, inside their room. She slipped off her heels and whirled around to grab his head, her fingers threading through his short cropped hair and pulling him down for another soul-searing kiss.

This was nothing like the past week - all half-sleepy encounters, dream states, bringing each other to orgasm with lips and tongue and fingers, expressing their love through objects and symbols. No, this was a blaze fueled by need and want and too many lonely nights imagining how it felt to make love with the one person that they were meant to make love with. Booth scooped her up in his arms, supporting her back as she wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles, his hands sweeping up the gentle curve of her ass as he made his way, half-blind with desire, towards the bed.

Their clothing succumbed to gravity and questing fingers, eager to search for more skin. She was a map made for him - all hills and valleys, an oasis at the center where he could quench his thirst for her. His tongue gave name to her breasts and belly, shoulders and hips, the long white road of her spine beneath the most pliable of skin. She was underneath him, above him, meeting him at the apex as her hands traced the musculature of his arms, his chest, encircling his waist and hips and drawing him to her.

He dipped his tongue into her center, his fingers seeking her clit as he tasted her on his lips. She bucked beneath him, calling his name, her fingers gripping the headboard as though she was afraid that she would be blown away by the oncoming storm of her orgasm. His fingers met a steady rhythm against her slick bud as he bent down and licked her slit in counterpoint to the rhythm, fast to slow, entering gently and pulling out quickly so that he could enjoy the flavor of her on his lips. She was clean, tart, a taste that was distinctly _Temperance_ in nature, and he smiled against her labia. Somehow, he was afraid of finding the right name for her... sacred things did not need names.

"Faster, Booth," she whispered, her skin gleaming with sweat, her cheeks flushed. "Please, please, oh please..." Her litany was the sweetest sound to his ears as he sped up, fingers and tongue and teeth on that hidden, most sacred part of her. He moved and she moved and suddenly she tensed around his fingers, her hips lifting off the bed, and she was crying out his name, her body shuddering as it exploded into her climax.

"Shh, baby," he said, sliding upwards, his hands trying to soothe her heated body. It took her a couple of minutes to open her eyes and give him a sated smile. Her gaze was dark and lidded, secret sapphires that glimmered in the half-light of the room. "Are you okay?" he asked in concern, trying to ignore the insistent tug of his erection.

"That was..." She chuckled as she turned to her side so that they were face to face, her fingers reaching down to tug his erection towards her. "That was amazing, Booth."

"One for the home team."

"But Booth, now I want you to teach me something."

"What did you want to learn, Bones?"

"How to break the laws of physics."

And then he found himself sliding inside her, her body warm and welcoming as he entered her for the first time. She gasped; he did not fall within the usual girth of men she'd been with in the past and somehow, she knew that even _this_ would be extraordinary. The tip of his cock brushed against her cervix and she shuddered in pleasure. He was longer and thicker than what she usually experienced, but there was also a sense of undeniable control as he gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him, buried to the hilt. With a cocky grin, he flipped them, still inside her, so that he was above her. "Missionary?" she gasped as she felt him still inside her, the pleasure palpable in the spaces between the beats of their hearts.

"Complaining, Bones?" he asked as he hooked his arms around her knees and brought them to rest on his shoulders so that he was as deep inside her as he could be. She moaned as he started moving, dictating their rhythm, as she reached between her legs to find that bundle of nerves with her fingers and started flicking her clit in time with his movements. Her other arm gripped the edge of the mattress as he steadily pounded into her. "You" - _pound - _"are" _- pound - _"mine..." he growled in her ear just as she started to quake around him, keeing nonsense syllables as she rode the wave of orgasm that slammed against her body, making her see whole constellations behind her eyes.

With a groan, he came just a second after, his body pouring his very soul inside her.

When her climax subsided, Brennan opened her eyes to find herself staring into Booth's dark gaze. He was still supporting his weight on both hands, She moved her legs down from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, unwilling to let him leave the warm cocoon of her core. She allowed her breathing to approximate a steady pace before speaking. "You know, it goes both ways," she said quietly, hoping he remembered what he said in the throes of orgasm.

He smiled, his dark hair damp with sweat and falling into his field of vision. "Oh Bones," he said. "I've been yours right from the beginning. It just took me a long time to realize it."

"Well," she said, "it took me longer."

"And a trip halfway around the world to get away from me."

"Hey, you also went away!"

"I wouldn't have gone away if _you_ didn't go away."

Laughing, Booth rolled off Brennan and moved towards the head of the bed, now devoid of pillows after their lovemaking. She followed him, crawling up the mussed sheets to settle in the crook of his arm, pillowing her head on his chest. He looked at the tumble of auburn hair on his skin and his heart swelled with love for this woman - this infuriating, irritating, amazing dynamo of a woman who had consented to be _his_ in every sense of the word. Well, almost. He shrugged, swiping a pillow from where it was awkwardly hanging between the bed frame and the night table, and wedged it behind is back. He pulled up the sheets and tried to cover up Brennan and himself as much as he could against the chilly night air. Finally settled, he pressed his lips against her head. "I love you," he whispered, knowing that she wouldn't have heard.

But a few seconds later, her mumbled reply floated in the semi-darkness. "I love you too."

* * *

It was past three in the morning when the call came.

"Bones?" Booth's voice cut through her dreams, bringing her back to wakefulness. "Bones, wake up. We need to get back to DC now."

"What? Why?" She sat up, the sheets falling away from her breasts. The bedside lamp was still lit, throwing shadows across the wall. He was seated at the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his phone in his hands. "What's going on, Booth?"

He looked at her, all traces of desire and tenderness gone from his eyes. He was in his investigative mode - like a hunting hound catching a scent. "Something's happened at home. We need to go _now_."

* * *

**A/N: Aaaaaand hey, there's a cliffie! Relax, don't worry. It's not what you think. Or maybe it is. :) Give me a few days to bang out the next chapter and you'll find out exactly what's going on.**

**On another note - so how did you find this chapter? It wasn't really a date chapter, but I thought B&B were more than ready to bounce like bunnies if I didn't let them have their way with each other in bed. I didn't want the sex scene to be reminiscent of other writers who do their smut MUCH MUCH MUCH better than me, so I just went with what I was comfy with. Does it work, or would you prefer to see more description?**

**And yes, I'm a sucker for oldies music - Google the song, folks, and don't mind the 70s bellbottoms and 'staches on the singers. The song itself is quite lovely and the lyrics are perfect for our favourite crime-fighting duo. I also point your attention to the graphic novel _Marvels_ by Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross - yes, it actually exists and it is even awesomer IRL. Also, the website NYC Go**** was a great resource in figuring out what kind of place I wanted them to end up at. Beats just Googling random maps. **

**Again, reviews are much appreciated, as are suggestions for future dates! :D They also make me write faster. **


	6. Setting Things Straight

**Title**: Learning Curves (6/?)

**Rating**: A happy, smutty M

**Spoilers**: Only for the speculation surrounding Season 6. This fic will not deal with the events in 06x01 _The Mastodon in the Room_ onwards.

**Disclaimer**: _Bones_ does not belong to me. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX and various other affiliates.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth?

**Author's Notes**: First of all, I apologize for the delay in the next chapter. I've had the worst case of writers' block in ages, and I still had real-life deadlines to deal with, so this fic had to take a back seat to some of the other stuff on my plate. Having said that, I appreciate all your comments and reviews and alerts and favorites on this story, and it really, truly makes me happy. I know I haven't been able to reply individually to your comments, but I appreciate them so much that if I could take them to bed and cuddle with them at night, I would. My boyfriend might have issues with that, though.

Once again, many thanks to the Mysterious Lady S for her assistance with this chapter. :) Not to worry, the sun will shine again after this angst.

* * *

There was a calm that came with compartmentalization. When Booth told her that it was an emergency, she wasted no time in waking up Eric, informing him that they had to leave _now_, and would he be able to book them the earliest red-eye flight back to DC? After twenty minutes, Eric called up the hotel to inform them that he had managed to get them the four-fifteen flight on Delta, and that the car would be there in fifteen minutes to drive them to LaGuardia. Booth had already packed their bags and was waiting impatiently for the confirmation.

"Thanks, Eric," Brennan said into the receiver. A bleary 'You're welcome' floated from the speaker before the dial tone took over. She cocked a questioning eyebrow at Booth. "What's going on, Booth? Is there a case?"

He raked a hand across his hair. The room still smelled of sex - she felt sore and sated all over, a reminder of their lovemaking not more than a few hours ago. How quickly things could change. "No," he said slowly, the way he rolled the word slowly in his mouth before releasing them alerting her to the fact that she probably would not like that news. "It's Hannah."

Her pale blue eyes did not betray anything. "What happened to her?"

"She took a bullet to the chest. She's in surgery right now. There was a shoot out at the congressional hearing she was covering - some demented asshole with a gun. The police have him in custody now, but he did fire a couple of round at the media crowd, and she was one of the casualties. She doesn't have any family in DC, and I was still listed as her emergency medical contact, so..."

Brennan nodded slowly. Her arms felt like lead; her head felt as though it was floating high above the sky. "I thought she was leaving the country again?" She couldn't help phrasing it as a question - she wished she didn't sound so _needy_.

"Yeah." Booth was already wheeling their luggage out of the suite. "Thing is, they wanted her to finish up her story up in Congress first before shipping her back to Iraq. She's supposed to be submitting the final draft this month, until the shoot out. Now, nobody knows."

Brennan took a deep breath. "All right. Can you handle checking out downstairs? I'll meet you at the lobby in five minutes."

Booth nodded absently, already halfway out the door.

She waited until she was sure he'd left, then moved towards the safe to get the comic book. Checking the contents of the large brown envelope and reassuring herself that they were untouched the last time they went out of the room, she breathed a sigh of relief and slipped it into her carry-on bag. Somehow, the right time to give her gift to Booth eluded her. She would figure out how to give it to him once they were back in DC.

She went through the room to check whether they had left anything behind. Leaving in a rush usually meant someone would forget something, and she was right - Booth's shaving cream was left on the sink counter, along with a small travel toothbrush and a roll of floss. She picked up the items and placed them in the pocket of her bag. There would be time to give it back later. And with a final glance at the rumpled room that still smelled of him and her and love, and she turned the lights off and closed the door behind her.

* * *

Although she did not believe in out-of-body experiences, preferring to chalk it up to the vagaries of the human brain as it was bombarded by chemicals or slipping into limbo, Brennan felt as though she was simply using her own eyes to take in the world around her, like a camera lens: her emotions, her feelings, everything she could connect to the man walking purposefully in front of her, seemed to have vanished - she'd let go of the string of the balloon that was her heart. She was unsure why she felt this way. After all, it was Booth's duty to see Hannah - he was her medical representative. But what did that mean? Did it mean that Hannah still had feelings for Booth? Did it mean that Booth still had feelings for Hannah? And if so, where did that leave her?

During these times, she would usually inquire with Booth as to what this tangle of human relationships would mean. But he was at the nurses' station now, arguing with the nurse on-duty about being able to see Hannah at (she checked her watch; it was still dark when the plane landed) at 5:45 that morning, and there was little to catch her attention as they took a cab to George Washington Memorial Hospital. She would've called up Angela, but she knew that her best friend would be tucked in bed, enveloped in her husband's arms, and she was loathe to disturb that island of calm. So she did what she did best - sit quietly at the hospital waiting room, surrounded by all their baggage, hold a cup of coffee in her hands, and pretend that she wasn't in this surreal existence where she was in a hospital waiting for her boyfriend to check up on his ex-girlfriend.

And this why she refused to put her trust in the field of psychology, she decided. Human relationships were far too complicated to be pinned to paper, or rendered to inkblot symbols, or to be scored on a scale of one to ten. Right now, she'd give anything to be able to understand why she felt as though there was something simply _wrong_ inside of her, as though there was something that didn't quite fit. And Brennan hated not understanding anything - especially when it came to herself.

Booth came back and sat down beside her on the worn-out couch. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in hands. "She's still sleeping. The nurse said that she was in surgery for a couple of hours. They had a bit of trouble getting the bullet out without damaging a major artery."

"Now what?"

"Now we wait."

"You and me?"

"No. Just me."

"Why?"

He was quiet for a minute. And then - "I'm not sure if you should be here."

"What do you mean by that?" Again, it seemed as though someone else was using her lips to form the words coming out of her mouth. But that couldn't be, could it? That was simply not logical.

"Dammit, Bones."

"Do you still love her?"

"What? No!"

"It's been only a few months, Booth. I would expect there would be residual feelings for her. Or did you have residual feelings for me when you were out there in Afghanistan, with her? Was that what brought you two together?"

"For God's sake, Bones, how many times do I have to tell you that I love you?" The anger, so tightly controlled, was already there, simmering under the surface. "This is not about us, okay? This is about Hannah, in the hospital, with a bullet to her chest. You need to understand that."

But she was tired and confused, and the fight gave her an excuse to release the tension, the wrongness inside her. "I suppose that answers it, then," she said coldly. "You still love her. I would have thought as much. After all, she's beautiful and exciting and she thrills you - she's not boring or awkward or creepy, like me."

"What? Bones, what are you - ?"

"It's all right." She could compartmentalize this, really, she could. "Your concern for her is understandable, as is your feelings. I suppose I was, as Angela would say, a rebound girl." She bent down and picked up her luggage from the floor. "You should stay, Booth. I am capable of taking myself home."

And before she could over-think her decision (she had stopped over-thinking a long time ago, maybe even back in Maluku, when she decided that she loved Booth - oh God, she _loved_ Booth, past tense), she followed the narrow, white-washed corridors of the hospital, towards the exit, entered a waiting cab, and gave directions to her apartment. She didn't dare look back. She knew he wouldn't follow her.

Sometimes, she hated being right all the time.

* * *

There had been radio silence on her end for two days. He tried everything: called both her home phone and cellphone, left at least ten voice mails in ten hours (he felt so pathetic – this was rapidly becoming more than just an "ain't-too-proud-to-beg" situation), and even her private line at the Jeffersonian. Unfortunately, it was one of the squinterns – the British one, judging by the accent – informing him that, under no circumstances was Dr. Brennan to be disturbed while she was occupied in bone storage. He almost broke the phone cradle when he slammed down the receiver.

He even tried coming to her apartment with a bagful of Thai and a six-pack of the beer she liked (and he couldn't stand). He fell asleep at her doorstep, and woke up with a start at three in the morning, realizing that the door was still closed and she was still not at home. He threw the oily bags away, stashed the beer at the back of the SUV, and drove to the lab, only to be told by the helpful nighttime security guard that Dr. Brennan had left at around eleven that evening. Worried, he repeatedly rang her cellphone, only to be met by her voicemail. He probably held more conversations with that goddamn mechanical voice over the past forty-eight hours than another human being.

Desperate, tired, and lacking sleep, he finally called up Cam. Her usual melodic voice was huskier with weariness. "Sorry for waking you up," he said. "But do you know where Bones is?"

"She went home, Seeley, and so should you."

"No. I waited for her at her apartment and she never came home. Wasted a good box of mee krob too."

He could almost hear his friend roll her eyes. "Stalker much, Seeley?"

"Don't call me Seeley," he replied automatically.

She chuckled. "She went home, Booth. If you really want to fix things with her, drop by the lab tomorrow around eleven. I can guarantee you she'll be here."

"Ah." He was silent for awhile. "She told you about...?"

"That woman is about as subtle as a train wreck. Yes, of course we know that something's not right. Angela tried talking to her, but Brennan just lit her ears on fire with her scientific anthropological double-speak. You know how she is when she's afraid, or scared, or even just a little bit emotional. God, I don't know how she manages to deal with her PMS."

"She eats a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food and vegs out on her couch with the latest issue of _Journal of Forensic Anthropology_," he replied.

Cam laughed. "I rest my case. Anyway, whatever's going on between you two, I'm sure you can fix it."

"I'm not so sure, Cam."

"Why not?"

"I... we... she thinks I still love Hannah."

What?"

"Hannah was one of the reporters wounded at the Congress shoot out. We cut our New York vacation short so that I could see her at the hospital. I think Bones... well, I think she misunderstood."

"Well, if I were in her shoes, I'd also feel a bit jealous. My boyfriend visiting his ex in the hospital? His ex still naming him as her emergency contact? Definitely cause for jealousy."

"Bones doesn't get jealous, Cam."

"Just because she's logical and rational doesn't mean that she doesn't have feelings, Booth. She's just not sure how to handle them. You know how she is – she overanalyzes _everything_. In her eyes, she probably didn't even know she was feeling jealousy. She's been left behind her entire life – it's one of those things she expects. You are the closest thing she has to feeling stable, and you threw a wrench into that situation and now she thinks you've left her. Again."

"I couldn't very well abandon Hannah in the hospital!"

"I know that, big guy. But maybe you should explain it to Brennan that you were merely fulfilling your duty _as a friend_, and that she has no cause for jealousy. Throw in an explanation for jealousy right there as well, while you're at it."

He rubbed his eyes. It was almost four and he really needed to get some shut-eye. "All right, Cam. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No problem. You owe me at least one drink at the Founding Fathers next time."

Booth grinned. "Got it. 'Night."

"Good night."

He jogged back to the SUV only to find a familiar form leaning against the passenger's side, wrapped in a cream-colored trenchcoat, her dark hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail. Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up and there were dark circles under her eyes. She stood up straighter when she saw him walking towards her, forcing herself to resist the pull of gravity.

"Bones," he greeted her quietly, hands in pockets. She walked towards him, close enough that their toes were almost kissing.

"I believe I owe you an apology," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. "I was wrong."

There was something about her stance, the little-girl face that looked lost and insecure, bright blue eyes that were bravely attempting not to waver under the heat of his gaze. "I think you just need to tell me what's going on, Bones," Booth said evenly, keeping his voice deliberately steady.

"I was... uncomfortable with the situation." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It never occurred to me that you would see Hannah again."

"The situation was out of my control. I didn't want her to get hurt, and I didn't know that I was still her medical contact. But that doesn't mean that my feelings for you have changed, or that I don't care about her anymore."

Brennan looked embarrassed. "I attempted to compartmentalize, but it seems that I have allowed myself to become irrational and misinterpreted the situation. I promise you that I will be more conscious of my actions and words, and that you will have no cause for complaints."

"Hey." He took a step closer, and then his arms were around her and she was leaning against him, her body unconsciously molding against his as he wrapped her in his embrace. "It's okay to be jealous."

"But I hurt you." Her voice was muffled against the fabric of his favorite forest-green jacket.

"Do you still love me?"

She burrowed deeper into his jacket. "For a moment, I thought – "

"Temperance Brennan, are you changing your mind?"

She looked up and saw the hint of a smile dancing on his lips. "No. I still... I still love you, Booth."

He tightened his hold around her. "Then it's all right. I'm sorry for acting like an idiot, too. I should've explained it to you. Hannah's not your responsibility. It's mine, though, because she asked me to be her medical rep here in DC, and I guess we both forgot that. I'm sorry if you thought that I was putting her welfare ahead of yours."

"I must admit, comparing our situations, you had every right to feel concern over her. She was shot, she was undergoing surgery, and I was selfish and irrational and – "

"Hey, babe. Don't beat yourself up over it. You're in love. It happens. If it was the other way around, I'd also feel jealous. It's natural, Bones. What makes you different is how you handle the emotion and what comes out of it."

She tightened her hold around him. "It seems I misjudged my own reaction to the situation. I should have been able to keep my emotions at bay. I was able to do that when Dr. Saroyan was still with you."

"Well, the situation was different. After all, you didn't love me back then."

"And you didn't love me, either."

He grinned. "Whatever you say, Bones."

She tilted her neck towards him and gave him a small Mona Lisa smile. "Are we... are we still the center, Booth?"

He bent down and pressed a light kiss on her lips. "Something this small will not destroy the center, Bones. It might rock the boat a little, but you and me? We're solid."

"Sometimes, your mixed metaphors makes me wonder if your English degree is even valid," she teased.

"You know, I'll get you for that," he growled mockingly. Maneuvering her towards the SUV, he said "Now come on, I'll take you home."

"How about you take me to your home instead?"

"That's the best idea you've had tonight, genius."

"I am a genius."

"I have no doubts about that, Bones."

* * *

She woke up first, the unfamiliar sunlight streaming from the gaps between the curtains. Booth lay sprawled on his side, his arm across her hip, his knee inserted between her legs, his mouth slightly open as he breathed in and out, his heartbeat steady in sleep. She shifted her position so that she lay on her back, one hand lazily traveling up and down his bicep. He was warm and comfortable beside her, and she burrowed closer to his naked body, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and skin and Booth. Last night (early this morning, if she had to be completely honest with herself), they both tumbled into bed, entwined with each other, slipping into a sleep so deep she was surprised that she woke up early enough to see the sun slowly map its way across the shadows on the floor, on the walls.

"Mmm," he mumbled into her hair. His eyes were still closed. "Morning, baby."

"We'll be late for work, Booth."

He tugged her to his chest. "Stay." He sealed his request with a kiss.

She opened her lips to his kiss, a desert flower unfurling at the first touch of rain. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, caressing her with lips and tongue and love and oh, she could feel him against her thigh and she knew she needed him inside her. Soon. Two days of sleeping alone in her bed, and she was already certain that she could never do that again. There was a part of her that balked at the commitment, at surrendering her independence, sharing her bed, but they all disappeared as his hand stroked her neck, traced the line of her shoulder, following the curve of her breast. She arched into his touch, whispering entreaties in his ear. She felt undone as his lips followed the path of his fingers, tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh of her nipple – first one, then the other, then back to the beginning until she was unsure where it began and ended. Time held no meaning when she was in his arms.

Reaching beneath the sheets, she grasped his cock in her hands, and felt him gasp against her skin. Tugging him towards her, she parted her legs and encouraged him to enter. He was up and over her, a shadowed form in the muted light of the room, sheathing himself inside her flesh. She was wet and slick underneath him, pleasure written in the flush of her skin, in the way her body undulated as he pushed into her. "Baby," he whispered in her ear, "I love you."

She opened her eyes, hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him against her so that there was no space between their bodies. "I love you," she said, just as she started spiraling downwards, into that bright moment when her body exploded. He groaned and pumped into her, once, twice, his body tensing as he spent himself inside her.

Booth gathered her in his arms and leaned back against the pillows. "That's the best way to wake up, babe."

"Then we should do it more often."

"Mmmhmm."

"Booth."

He pressed a kiss on top of her head. "Yeah?"

"Your doorbell is ringing."

He groaned as he pushed himself off the bed. She leaned on her elbows, admiring his nakedness, slightly disappointed when he pulled on a pair of cotton sleep pants and raked a hand over his hair in a vain attempt to fix it. "I think I like you better naked," she commented as he pulled a Ramones t-shirt over his head.

"I also like you better naked, Bones, but we can't always get what we want."

The doorbell insistently chimed once more.

"All right, all right," he muttered as he walked to the front door. Without peering into the keyhole, he opened the door – just as a familiar blonde stood in front of him with a paper bag and two cups of coffee in her hand. "Uh. Hi, Hannah."

"Hi Seeley," she said brightly. Despite the bandage on her forehead and a few healing cuts on her cheeks, her smile was still like sunshine trapped in a bottle. "I heard that you handled me being in the hospital rather well, and I just wanted to say thank you." She stepped into the apartment, breezing past him and making her way towards the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind me dropping by. I got you your favorite muffin and some coffee from that cart you like so much down at the Mall, and... oh hi, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan poked her head from the bedroom, obviously curious as to who the visitor was. Her hair was curled around her shoulders, and she had obviously stolen one of his band shirts – a dark green U2 shirt that he'd owned during his first months at Quantico. The hem brushed her thighs, highlighting the length of her legs. She turned her gaze to Hannah. "Oh. Hello. How are you feeling?"

The other woman nodded, her smile faltering slightly as she took on Brennan's disheveled appearance and the fact that she was wearing one of Booth's shirts. "Much better. I was discharged yesterday. I just came by to thank Seeley for dealing with the paperwork at the hospital, and for checking up on me."

"I'm glad you're feeling better." To Booth's surprise, she crossed the space from the bedroom to the kitchen and gave Hannah a quick hug. "Booth was quite worried about your health. Having been shot at before, I can say with certainty that it's not a pleasant experience."

Hannah seemed taken aback, but to her credit, she managed to return Brennan's gesture. Booth suddenly wished he had a camera, just so he could have proof that yes, indeed, Temperance Brennan _can_ change. "Well, it certainly was the most thrilling thing that's happened to me in DC," she said as she unloaded the contents of her paper bag on the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry, but I didn't think you'd be here, so I only brought breakfast for two."

"It's quite all right," Brennan said. "I understand. It is a commonly accepted gesture to use food as an offering, either for thanksgiving or for a request to be answered. In this case, your breakfast could be taken as serving a twofold purpose – to inform Booth that his fulfillment of his responsibility towards you is appreciated, and perhaps to ascertain whether or not Booth has moved on, and to see whether or not you could return to the previous status quo."

Silence descended in the kitchen. Booth wondered if he should diffuse the situation or simply run for cover, but Hannah beat him to the punch.

"You know, that's what I missed about you, Temperance," she said, smiling. "You speak exactly what's on your mind."

"That's true. I believe that the truth should not be concealed from those who wish to know."

"Then let me be honest: you and Seeley? It's a good thing. It's the best thing that's happened to you, I'm sure, and I can tell you that even when he was with me, he was never this happy. And yes, when he told me that he was still in love with you, I wanted to hate you, but I also knew that you did nothing to earn that kind of antagonistic reaction. And like you, I believe in being fair and honest with other people. So be fair to yourself, Temperance. Let this man love you. And you don't have to be scared of me – like I said, I'm only here to thank Seeley for what he's done, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Brennan looked in confusion at Booth. "I don't know what that means."

He released the breath that he didn't know he was holding in. "Uh, it means that Hannah's leaving after breakfast."

"Yes." Hannah doled out the muffins and placed the coffee on the table. "In fact, why don't you two have this, and I'll go back to the hotel and start packing? I need to be at the airport tonight and I still have a lot of things to wrap up."

Booth finally found his voice as the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. "Headed back to the war zone?"

She shook her head, strands of her golden hair catching the light like a prism. "No. Home to Minnesota. Doctor says I need to recover for a couple of weeks, and let's face it, I haven't talked to Mom in forever."

Brennan smiled at her – a true smile, a real smile that meant she was happy that Hannah was all right, that she was recovering, and that she had a family to go home to. "I'm very happy you have a family to return to, Hannah. And I will take your words under advisement. It seems that you are more astute than I am when it comes to love and Booth."

She gave her a saucy wink. "What can I say? It was a thrilling ride while it lasted."

Booth laughed. "Yes it was."

She wrapped her arms around Booth in a friendly hug. "Thank you. Really."

"You're welcome."

"Take care of yourselves." She moved over to Brennan for another hug. "Take care of him," she whispered into her ear.

"I will," promised Brennan.

After Booth closed the door behind her, Brennan wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. "That was nice of her," she said.

"And that was nice of you too, Bones," he said in amazement. "Of course, when you said all that stuff about her checking out if we could get back together, I have to say my heart stopped."

"If your heart did that, you would be in cardiac arrest and I would have to call 911."

"Bones, metaphor." He ushered her back to the kitchen and watched her clamber up the bar stool that functioned as his kitchen seating, happy at the sight of her long legs stretching out from beneath his shirt. He served up the muffins and coffee and held up his own coffee cup in a toast. "To Hannah."

"Why are we toasting to her?"

"Because if she didn't come into our lives, I wouldn't have been able to deal with the fact that I still love you, and you would never have admitted that you love me."

"So her arrival into our lives was a fortuitous event?"

"Yes."

"Very well, I accept your statement." She tapped the rim of her coffee cup against his. "To Hannah. Hopefully she'll be the last woman to share your bed."

Booth grinned. "Still jealous there, Bones?"

She grinned. "Simply stating a fact, Booth. Unless you're willing to participate in a threesome with myself and another woman. I do know someone – "

He leaned over the small table and captured her lips with his. "As hot as that sounds, baby, you're the only one for me."

"I share the sentiment," she said, smiling.

Booth bit into the tart apple muffin that Hannah had brought over, returning Brennan's smile. "That's good, Bones. It's all good."

* * *

**A/N: So what did you think? I figured I had to wrap up Hannah's presence from **_**A Love Warm and Bright**_**, and provide a bit of angst for the partners. After all, Brennan has to learn that being in love isn't all sunshine and roses and pony rides, and both of them have baggage that needs to be dealt with. :) **

**As usual, comments, reviews, and constructive criticisms, as well as suggestions for future dates, are most welcome. *hugs and kisses***


	7. These Abundant Skies

**Title**: Learning Curves

**Rating**: We're firmly in M territory, folks. If you're underage or if you're not up to two people in love getting it on, I suggest you read something else.

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Spoilers**: Only for the speculation surrounding Season 6. This fic will not deal with the events in 06x01 _The Mastodon in the Room_ onwards. If you want to know what happened to the Hannah in my story, you can read _A Love Warm and Bright_, which precedes this one.

**Disclaimer**: _Bones_ does not belong to me. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX and various other affiliate

**Author's Notes**: I suppose an apology is in order. I know, I know - I haven't touched this baby in a MONTH. A MONTH! Que horror! Que barbaridad! Que...sadillas! I apologize profusely for those waiting for this update. I know, the muse is as fickle, fickle lady and it was difficult to rope her into finishing this chapter. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for your patience and your kindness, for your reviews and reminders to finish this story. I foresee about 3-4 more chapters and then we should be all right. :) I hope you enjoy!

* * *

He slammed her against the surface of her apartment door, his hands already tracing the curves of her body, molding pliant flesh like the clay he used a long time ago (ancient history, really) when he gave her a wide smile and made her a horse - the horse that was now sitting on her living room shelf that were full of priceless artifacts. He was flattered, really, but right now his hands and mind and lips and tongue were full of Brennan: the way she gasped as his teeth worried the sensitive flesh of her lips, the way her breasts spilled gloriously into his hands like an answered prayer as she struggled out of the tight forest-green dress that she was wearing for dinner that night.

"No bra tonight?" he growled against her ear, thumbs already pressed against the hard nubs of her nipples.

She shook her head, her auburn curls tumbling down her shoulders, shifting her head so that her tongue could swipe the curve of his ear. He shuddered and bent down, taking one nipple into his mouth. She was sweeter than any dessert he'd ever enjoyed, better than the best apple pie in the world. She hooked her arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair as she pressed and encouraged and moaned his name as his tongue traced maps, constellations, entire universes against the sensitive flesh of her breasts.

Her questing fingers slipped off the buttons of his shirt (they had learned their lesson after popping one too many shirt buttons) and pushed the sleeves off his shoulders, treating herself to a display of flesh. "Dr. Saroyan may have been right about one thing," she gasped as his lips traced an invisible line meandering from her breasts towards the pale lace thong that barely covered her. "There is something valuable about the flesh."

Booth looked up from his ministrations. "Are you actually making a joke, Bones? Right now?"

She gave him a cocky grin that was eerily familiar. "I learned from the best."

"Just for that - " He hooked his thumbs around her dress, which had managed to make its way down to her waist, the sleeves hanging uselessly on both sides, and started to pull it down slowly, exposing every inch of her sinfully pale skin, " - I'm going to make sure you have all the time in the world to appreciate flesh."

She moaned, leaning against the door as his tongue ignited a flame of desire across her body. He was going to make it good - oh so very good for her tonight.

Pulling her dress down to her ankles, Brennan moved to slip off her heels, but a hand encircled her foot. "Keep them on," he whispered.

She looked down. The three-inch satin black Manolos cradled her feet and enhanced the graceful arch of her legs. Holding her breath, she watched as Booth reverently kissed the tips of her toes, and worked his way up the outline of her feet, careful to avoid the fabric of the Manolos. His tongue carefully traced the curve of her ankle. "Tell me about them, Bones," he said quietly. She could hear the tension in his voice, the carefully crafted control he had over his passion. He traced a callused finger over her foot. "Tell me about these."

She tried to keep her thoughts straight. Right. Bones. She was good at naming bones. But right now, with Booth worshipping at her feet, her mind had gone straight down into her groin. "The... uh... the ankle is actually a joint, the talocrural joint. It connects, _ah_, the distal ends of the fibula and tibia with the, _Jesus don't stop, Booth_... the, ah, proximal termination of the talus bone... _Talos_ is also the name of.. _oh God, Booth_... a... a bronze automaton in Greek mythology... _oh please don't stop_..."

"Mmm, I love it when you speak squint, baby." His tongue moved upwards, turning her into a bundle of nerves as his tongue snaked upwards, finally reaching the junction between her thighs, where his teeth scraped at the lacy scrap of cloth held together by a pale band of silk. She reached down, pulling his head closer as his tongue touched her through the lace, the contrast of the rough material and the feel of his mouth over her enough to send her spiraling upwards towards the first of what she hoped was many, many orgasms.

Booth carefully slipped the panties down her mile-long legs and shoved them into the back pocket of his black jeans. "A souvenir," he grinned against her pussy, making her smile. And then his lips were on her clit, his fingers slipping between slippery folds of flesh, and she was lost in the pleasure he built inside her. "Don't stop," Brennan groaned.

"I don't intend to," he said between mouthfuls of her skin, the slick evidence of her desire coating his lips. He could feel her tremble around his fingers, her inner muscles squeezing and contracting around his joints. He slipped a second finger inside, marvelling at how she writhed above him, her eyes closed, body flushed, her own fingers plucking at her nipples as she rode the wave towards an exquisite pleasure. He adjusted the angle of his fingers and bent forward again, his tongue seeking her clit between the folds of her pussy. She was wet and pink and wanting, and even though his own erection pressed almost painfully against the seam of his jeans, he was determined to get one up on her before they took it to the bedroom.

She arched her back, trembling with tension, her body rigid as she crashed into her climax. "Oh God, oh God, oh, _Booth_!" she cried as she slumped back against the wall, wobbling on her heels, shaking at the aftermath of her , he slipped his fingers out and placed a string of small kisses across the soft roundness of her belly. Shifting one hand at the small of her back, he helped her slide down to the floor, a sated smile gracing her face.

"Good one?" he asked, bending down for a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a lazy grin. "A perfect beginning for the weekend."

"I thought you didn't believe in weekends. In fact, I believe you're supposed to go to the lab tomorrow at, say, eight in the morning?"

"Not if you give me an incentive to stay."

"And what kind of incentive would that be, huh, Bones?" Effortlessly, he swung her in his arms and made his way towards the bedroom, leaving scattered clothes in their wake. There would be enough time in the morning to clean up. She burrowed against his bare chest, enjoying the warm maleness of him against her cheek. He kicked open the door and slid her across the sheets, pushing the duvet to the foot of the bed. "You look really hot, babe," he said, taking in her disheveled, post-coital appearance in contrast with the black stiletto heels still on her feet.

She gave him a grin and stretched, cat-like, across the bed. "Aren't you getting rid of those pants?" she inquired curiously, gesturing at the obvious erection that was threatening to burn a hole into his jeans.

He arched an eyebrow at her and quickly divested himself of pants, boxers, and socks, diving into bed beside her and pulling her close to him. Smiling, she gave him a kiss and proceeded to show him exactly what kind of incentive she wanted so that she'd stay.

* * *

The sound of water pitter-pattering against the windows woke him up. Brennan was warm and languid in his arms, her mouth slightly open as she slept, her hair fanned out across the pillows, rivers of mahogany and scarlet mingling into an ocean of her. He breathed in the familiar scent of her bare body and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, pulling her towards him so that her back curved against his torso. Rainy Saturday mornings were perfect. He shot a prayer of gratitude to the Man Above for another shot at love - really, he was the luckiest sonofabitch alive.

The sharp trill of his cellphone jolted him upright. Brennan grumbled at the loss of contact with his body, but settled back down to sleep. He slid out of bed and padded barefoot towards the other side, where his pants (and presumably his phone) were. Rifling through the mound of clothes, he finally found the device, flipped it open, and pressed the phone to his ear. "Booth."

"Hey Seeley, it's Rebecca."

He padded back to the bed and settled against the headboard, pulling the sheets over his lap. The room was starting to get chilly because of the rain. "Hey Becs. It's not my weekend with Parker today. Is everything all right?"

On the other end of the line, Rebecca sounded harried. "I know that, and I'm really sorry to spring this on you, but the office just called and I have a deposition in three hours and I need to get ready for that. Will you be all right watching Parker today, and maybe tomorrow as well? I would've asked Brent, but he's out of town as well so there's nobody at home."

Booth scratched his head and glanced at Bones' sleeping form. This may not have been the weekend she signed up for. "Sure, Becs. Let me just take a shower and I'll drop by to pick him up."

"Oh, that's not a problem, Seeley." He heard the sound of keys being juggled from one hand to another, and a door opening. The faint echo of the rain washed over her every word. "I'll drive him by your place on the way to the courthouse."

"Er..." Had he even informed Rebecca about the change in his relationship with Bones? "I'm not at home right now."

"Well then, where are you?"

Might as well. Rip it off, like a Band-Aid over a festering wound. "I am at Dr. Brennan's apartment."

"Oh." Pause. "Case?"

"Uh. No."

"Oh. _Oh_. Oooh." Then something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle floated from the receiver.

"Stop that." He glared the phone, wondering if he could suddenly develop super powers that would instantly transmit his deadly glares through cellphones. "_Stop_. Becs, this is not funny."

"If you were on my end, you'd find it amusing at the very least as well, Seeley." She tried to compose herself. Booth could hear Parker asking, "What's so funny?"

"Do you want me to tell Parker why I'm taking him to Dr. Brennan's?" she asked, finally managing to stop giggling.

"I'll explain to him," Booth said resignedly. "Bring him over."

"All right. I'll see you in twenty minutes. Hope that's enough time for you to put some clothes on." (In the background, he could hear the following exchange: "Mom, why is Dad walking around naked?" "He's cold, honey." "But it's _raining!"_)

"Rebecca!" He was scandalized. This was the woman bringing up his child? He could already foresee the amount of therapy Parker would need in his teenage years.

"Bye Seeley," she said. The dial tone sounded in his ear. He stared at the offending piece of technology in his hand and placed it on the bedside table. His ten-year-old would be here in twenty minutes, the rain outside was threatening to turn into a deluge, and a very warm, very naked Bones was beside him, sound asleep. His cock stirred a bit at the last part. _Mmm, naked Bones._

"Booth?" A sleepy voice floated out from somewhere amidst the pillows.

"Yes, Bones?"

"Your penis is invading my personal space."

He laughed and pulled her close to hug her. "Parker will be here in twenty minutes."

Brennan bolted upright, her hair tangled around her head, a panicked look on her face. "I can't have a child in here!"

"Bones, relax." Booth wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. "He's been here before, remember? We'd take showers here after swimming."

Brennan didn't relax for a moment. "I... I have nothing to entertain a child with. I don't even have a TV!"

"Parker is very independent and imaginative." He rubbed her arms soothingly. "Plus he usually brings some toys whenever he's over at my place too."

Brennan glanced at the window, finally noticing that it the city was pretty much underwater. "I have to get a shower then," she decided, jumping out of bed and practically prancing naked towards the en suite bathroom. "Can you go pick up my dress and underwear from the living room? I'm certain that will not be good for Parker's cognitive development at this point in time."

Booth laughed, launching himself out of the warm cocoon of their bed. "Your wish is my command."

As he moved towards the living room, picking up the discarded green dress and his white dress shirt from the floor, straightening up stray throw pillows from their 3 AM couch adventures the night before last, he pondered about what to tell Parker about Bones. After all, his son had known his partner (best friend, soul mate, love of his life) ever since he was four, and he'd fielded the occasional question about whether or not he and Bones would ever do the kissy face like Mom and Brent. He'd always been upfront with Parker - he'd even introduced Hannah as his girlfriend during that brief time that she'd lived with him (with them). But he also knew that Parker had always thought of Bones as his "other mom" despite the fact that Booth had emphasized that they were just friends. He rolled his eyes. Even his child had seen through that bald-faced lie.

"Booth?" Brennan called from the bedroom. "Is Parker here already?"

He smiled to himself. Has it only been a few months since they sat in the Botanical Gardens and laid bare their emotions to each other? Since he decided that it was the best time to let go of Hannah and forge a new life with Bones? It seemed like he'd been caught in this loop with her forever, always running after the one thing he couldn't have. And now, he had her in his arms and she was glorious. "No," he said, walking into the bedroom to find Brennan wearing a towel and little else, standing in front of the mirror and combing her damp hair. "Hey gorgeous," he greeted, bending down and kissing her on the cheek.

She gave him a warm smile, her blue eyes like the summer sky. "You'd better get into the shower as well. I'll go make breakfast. Your clothes are in the bottom drawer, by the way." She quickly changed into a pair of gray yoga pants and a pink cotton t-shirt with a cartoon rendering of Brainy Smurf on it. Booth smiled as soon as he saw the shirt. She saw him glancing at the design and quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "You don't like it?"

"Very sexy, Bones."

"I found it at a vintage clothing shop when Angela insisted that we have a 'girl day' some time ago. I'm just curious - how come we never invite Cam during our girl days?"

"Because Angela's enough girl without adding Cam to the equation," he answered, flipping a towel over his shoulder and sauntering to the bathroom. "The world might explode whenever you three are in a room together."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan moved towards the kitchen, searching for a proper, nutritional breakfast to prepare for Parker. Somehow, in the course of the past few months, she had noticed that Booth had been sleeping more often at her place than at his own place. So much so that there was already a rack in her closet that was filled with his freshly-pressed suits and a stack of white dress shirts, several of his favorite ties, and his colorful socks. His favorite pack of coffee beans sat side by side with her organic, fair trade coffee grounds. The beer he liked was in the fridge, and full-fat milk jostled for shelf space with her almond milk. She rolled her eyes as she took a carton of eggs from the fridge, some grated mozzarella cheese from the last time she made mac 'n cheese, and several rashers of bacon for the boys. Rooting around her vegetable bin, she found a bundle of leafy green spinach and decided to make some omelets for the three of them - bacon and cheese for Parker and Booth, and spinach and cheese on hers. Humming, she started cracking eggs into a glass mixing bowl, her mind moving methodically from one step to the next, enjoying the peaceful Saturday morning, the rain drumming a soothing rhythm against the kitchen windows.

Just as the scent of melted cheese and frying bacon filled the room, the doorbell rang. Brennan twirled the oven knobs to close and walked towards the front door. Parker and Rebecca stood on the mat, dripping as though they had taken a swim in the Reflecting Pool at the Mall. Parker was wearing bright yellow galoshes and a matching raincoat, and his blond curls were covered with a fire engine red rain hat. He shook himself like a fish out of water and held his arms out for a hug. Rebecca wasn't looking much better herself: her normally well-coiffed locks were now damp and bedraggled, and it looked as though her umbrella didn't do much good in the pouring rain.

"Parker, please take off your rain things," said Rebecca as Parker reached up and gave Brennan and peck on her cheeks. The boy unbuttoned his raincoat, stepped out of his boots and half-ran, half-bounced down the hallway towards the living room. "I'm sorry," she apologized profusely as she and Brennan picked up Parker's forgotten rain gear from the floor. "He's just excited."

Brennan nodded sagely. "It's quite all right. Booth and I will attempt to provide him with enough educational stimuli so as to make his stay with us productive." She moved towards the entrance hall closet to store Parker's things. "What time will you come back for him?"

Rebecca shrugged. "You'd think the courthouse would consider today a break, given the storm outside. Anyway, my deposition starts in two and a half hours, but I'm not sure how long it will last. I'll call around five to let you guys know. Is that all right?"

Brennan gave her a smile. "Of course. We're always happy to have Parker over."

The other woman looked relieved. "Thank goodness. I'm glad you and Seeley are - "

"Oh! Yes. I mean, I'm sure Booth would want to be the one - "

"I totally get it, it's fine, you don't have to - "

Both women looked at each other, and a strange sort of understanding passed between them. "All I'm saying, Temperance," said Rebecca slowly, "is that I'm glad you finally understood that you're the best thing that's ever happened to Seeley." There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Of course, if you break my boys' hearts, you know I'm gonna have to kick your ass, right?"

Brennan laughed. "As one alpha female to another, I appreciate your concern over Booth and Parker." She glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Booth was already done in the bathroom. "But I can assure you, I'm competing for keeps."

"Bones, it's 'playing for keeps'," Booth intoned, Parker happily trailing after his father. He gave Rebecca a quick hug and an amiable grin. "Don't worry, we'll make sure Parker eats his vegetables and takes his naps today."

"I'm too old for naps!" groaned the ten-year-old.

"But not too old for hugs, I hope?" asked his mother, bending down for a goodbye hug. The little boy (not so little anymore, thought Brennan with a twinge of sadness) gave Rebecca a perfunctory hug and kiss on the cheek, and with a last wave, she disappeared down the hall again and into the elevator lobby.

Breakfast was a happy affair. The cheese omelets were well-received by both father and son, who also made the appropriate noises upon discovering that she was eating spinach in her omelet. ("Ew," groaned Parker, "that's so _healthy_!") While Booth and Parker washed the dishes and placed everything in the dishwasher, Brennan headed back to the bedroom to straighten up the sheets and set aside the laundry. Outside, the rain lashed against the apartment building, tree branches bending under the weight of the wind. Leaves, loose newspaper sheets, and other debris were flung every which way, and the very few pedestrians who decided to brave the storm were struggling against the weather, seeking the nearest, warmest place to wait out the storm.

Inside, Brennan had finished the chores in her bedroom and padded outside only to wonder where both father and son had gone to. She cocked her head, trying to listen for clues to their whereabouts despite the rumble of the rain. Deciding that they may have moved to the office, where her computer was set up, she walked down the hallway, past the kitchen, and towards the small room that she had set up as her office-slash-library. As she neared the door, she could hear low murmurs and giggles behind the heavy mahogany. Without knocking, she pushed aside the door -

"Ta-dah!" Parker sprang up from a mess of blankets and cushions and a pile of cardboard boxes. "Welcome to my castle!"

Brennan looked around in amazement. The sparse furnishings were pushed up against the wall. Her bookshelves were covered in sheets, and Booth had collected all her breakable items and placed them carefully in a box away from the makeshift castle they had built. The lights were turned down low, and with the dark gray skies roiling outside the window, the dim lighting was perfect for the tunnels and turrets and walls that they had created using her spare blankets, pillows and boxes from the storage room in the back. Parker was wearing a cardboard crown and Booth had wrapped his shoulders and midsection in foil so that it looked as though he was wearing armor. Both of them brandished plastic swords and big, wide grins on their faces.

Mistaking her expression for terror, Booth quickly walked over towards Brennan and slung an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, babe. I promise, Parker and I will clean everything up and you don't have to lift a finger to help. It's just that Parker is bored and since you don't have a TV or video games like at my place, we figured building a fort and playing knights and dragons - "

Brennan turned to him, her eyes glimmering in the half-light of the room. Outside, thunder boomed; Parker jumped and dived behind the boxes. "Move in with me," she said, tugging his hand.

"What?"

"Move in with me. We'll get a bigger place, with a yard, where Parker can have his own room and we can build him a tree house in the backyard." There was no uncertainty in her voice, no wavering note - she knew, just as she knew the names of all the bones in the body, just as she knew the cause of death, the murder weapon, the slow evolutionary process of a world bound by logic and science. She knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to move in with him.

"Bones. I - "

"Well?" Parker popped up from behind a cardboard box. "Are we going to play or not?" He reached down beside him and gave Brennan a curved plastic blade and an eyepatch. "Here, you can be a pirate queen and we'll defend our shores against your pilla... pille... pillowing!"

Solemnly, Brennan took up the eyepatch and the scimitar, and with a pirate's yell, dived into the fray with Booth and Parker, laughing and shouting as they played the morning away.

* * *

Sometime in the afternoon (they were never quite sure about the time; the storm clouds hanging over Washington DC refused to leave, much like a stubborn group of teenagers at the entrance of a mall at closing time), Parker had drifted off to sleep on the couch, tucked beneath one of Brennan's afghans. The Good Prince (Parker) and the Pirate Queen (Brennan) had defeated the Evil Silver-Foil Knight and had instructed him to cook them a feast fit for victors. After a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and orange juice, Parker had finally had enough and took a nap, leaving the couple lying down underneath the swaths of cloth of the makeshift castle, cuddling among the pillows.

"Thanks for playing with Parker," Booth said presently. He was lying on his back, his head pillowed under one arm. His other arm was wrapped around Brennan, who was lying on her side, hair spread across his chest like tendrils of a particularly delicate vine.

"He's a good child, Booth. I enjoy being part of his formative years."

"I just... I want to enjoy this time with him as much as possible. He'll be a teenager soon, and he'll want to do his own things, and it won't be cool anymore to hang out with his dad, playing make-believe. And I love times like these, when we can just enjoy being together."

Brennan stroked his arm, the one that was currently wrapped around her. "I'm sorry for intruding in on your time with Parker."

"Hey." He looked down to meet her eyes, brown reflecting blue. "You're our family too, okay Bones? We love having you around. Parker adores you."

"I'm certain he also enjoyed Hannah's company."

"Like I said, he'd never really met Hannah. I'm sure he knew there was someone in my life at the time, but... well, he was indifferent to it. He was always 'So when are we gonna see Bones?' or 'Can we take Bones to the zoo?' or 'Is Bones coming to my hockey game?'" He chuckled. "You've got us all wrapped around your little finger."

Brennan's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

Booth smiled and pulled her upwards so that she was pressed against him, and his lips were so close to hers, all she needed was to lean forward to kiss him. "Bones, will you move in with me?"

"What? I asked you first!"

He kissed her swiftly, surely, long and hard enough to make her see stars behind her eyelids. "Yes, but I'm doing my alpha-male thing here, and I want to provide you with a good house, you and Parker, and I can't think of anyone else to live with."

"You do realize that I have more money than you, right?"

"Yes, but we'll still do this as partners, Bones. Give and take. Find a balance."

Her blue eyes twinkled. "You're right, though. Homeostasis is a natural state in which all matter aspires to reach. I suppose it applies even to relationships."

"So you'll move in with me?"

She mirrored his smile, the joy in his eyes. "Of course, Booth."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small silver item. "Then here's the next thing I'm returning from your box."

She sat up, lifting the item in front of her to examine it closely. It was a key - the key to his apartment - hanging on a plastic skeleton keychain. "See?" he said, "I even got you a keychain. Bones for my Bones."

Turning to him, Brennan couldn't keep her eyes from blurring. When did she become the kind of woman who cried at the drop of a hat, when emotions threatened to overwhelm her? She thought about how much her life had changed since she had decided that she would finally accept the love that Booth had offered her, the love that now surrounded her like a warm, comfortable blanket, the love that reminded her that she had a home now, that she belonged to a different kind of family. She couldn't remember why she was so afraid of this now - why she had pushed it away for so long, why she had allowed Booth to find another woman first before realizing that it was him all along? She needed hard, empirical evidence to support her hypotheses, and Booth had given her that - every fight he had defended her, every bullet he had taken for her, every time he had showed her that there was a world beyond the lab, beyond the science, beyond the bones. What was once so elusive to her was now so clear, like looking up at the sky and seeing nothing but a bright, endless blue.

Booth had taken her in his arms, worried that he had pushed her again, that she was retreating back into her shell of logic and reason. "Shhh, baby, don't cry. We don't have to move in if you don't want to. I just thought... with what you said earlier... I thought it was time..."

She looked up, and her eyes were now clear: blue, the color of a still pond in the summertime, reflecting the shining light of his love. "Yes, Booth. We're moving in together."

* * *

**A/N: Aaaaaand see? That wasn't so bad. A lot of fluff, definitely, but I figured you all deserved that after such a long hiatus. :) So three more chapters: next up, we're moving in, Booth and Brennan style. Plus, Booth has one last thing up his sleeve from that box. And what about that Green Lantern comic book that Brennan's stashed away? They'll all be showing up soon.**

**In the meantime - please read and review! The more reviews, the more smut we'll see in the next few chapters. :)**


	8. Every Piece In Its Rightful Place

**Title**: Learning Curves

**Rating**: Happily M for awesome sexytiemz

**Summary**: Brennan has always insisted that she had a steep learning curve - but does that apply to dating Booth? Spoilers for Season 6 and much speculation as well.

**Spoilers**: Only for the speculation surrounding Season 6. This fic will not deal with the events in 06x01 _The Mastodon in the Room_ onwards. If you want to know what happened to the Hannah in my story, you can read "A Love Warm and Bright", which precedes this one.

**Disclaimer**: Bones does not belong to me. It belongs to Hart Hanson, FOX and various other affiliates

**Author's Notes**: See, it didn't take so long this time around, didn't it? :) I guess I was simply encouraged by last week's episode, you know, the one without Li'l Miss Hannah. *shudder* Now the name has absolutely no positive connotation for me anymore. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little piece of fluff - Booth and Brennan move in. Or do they?

* * *

Every Piece In Its Rightful Place

Brennan sat, Indian-style, in front of her coffee table. In front of her was a crisp sheet of legal paper and her favorite ink pen with the sharp metal nub that her father had given her two Christmases ago. The lights around the living room was dimmed almost to the point of darkness, and strains of jazz from the sound system filtered throughout the room. A half-finished glass of Moscato d'Asti sat by her elbow, beads of condensation clinging to the curve of the glass. Blankly, she stared at the piece of paper. She was supposed to be writing down which items were going to storage, which items she was bringing to the new townhouse, and which ones she was giving away to charity. But somehow, the decision felt heavy on her shoulders. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. This was supposed to be logical, simple - they were simply pieces of furniture. She should be able to sort this out.

Perhaps the issue was really the fact that she was, by all intents and purposes, hesitant of moving in with Booth. Of course, she attributed it to the heat of the moment at that time of the proposal. Emotions had gotten the better of her, and while she was too stubborn to back down, she left him with the responsibility of finding a new place, contacting a suitable real estate agent, and organizing the move. He had been quite willing to do his fair share and ask her opinion for everything from distance to the color of the walls, but at the end of the day, she had thrown herself into her work and left him with all the distant details. She wasn't proud of herself for that - even she was aware of what she was doing - but as Booth hadn't called her out on her behavior, she wasn't going to change anything.

Maybe that was the problem, she mused. She was still not at ease with changes in her life. Sure, the move from being simply partners to becoming romantically involved might seem rushed to some, but they had been dancing around each other for almost a decade before she had decided that what she was feeling wasn't a simple case of lust; it was a deep, abiding respect, admiration, and a great deal of care for the man behind the badge and the gun. But she was still, by nature, a solitary individual, and the last time she had co-habited with someone (and why she would never date psychologists anymore; Peter was a lesson worth learning), she had shattered his TV with a baseball bat.

Booth had already informed her that the movers would be swinging by her place in less than a week's time. Their final choice (his final choice, come to think of it) was a cozy townhouse at Mount Pleasant by Dupont Circle. The old-style red brick facade mirrored her current apartment block, except that now, they also owned a small front yard, a rather spacious backyard, and a proper living room. She had simply signed her name on the lease when prompted, handed over her share of the rent, and informed him that a fifteenth-century skeleton unearthed in Scotland was being shipped over for authentication. Thinking back, she thought that she had been treating him rather callously for the past month - ever since the decision to move in together had been finalized.

It wasn't that she didn't love him. She made her feelings on the matter rather clear, both physically and emotionally. But somehow, the thought of making such a significant commitment to him left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. What if he didn't like the fact that she habitually woke up before dawn to practice yoga, or that she enjoyed being left alone in her study for hours, or that the reason that she disliked the television was because of the erroneous information on the Discovery Channel? And what if - what if he finally realized that she was not the type of woman to cook and clean and wait for her partner to come home - and what if - what if he realized that that was what he wanted? Oh, he would drop her like a hot potato and go find Suzy Homemaker.

A vigorous knock on her door jolted her out of her reverie. Quickly, she uncrossed her legs and padded barefoot to the entrance, peering into the fish-eye to check who was behind the solid teak panel. Obviously, she already knew that Booth was the only one who would visit her at one in the morning, but it never hurt her to be careful. Once she was certain, she unlocked the door and slid the deadbolt out of its niche. "Hey," she said softly, ushering him in.

"Hey there." Booth leaned against the door frame, hands inside the pockets of his jeans, his familiar brown leather jacket molded perfectly around his shoulders and arms. He held up his car keys and dangled them in front of her. "Want to go for a drive?"

"It's past midnight, Booth. Aren't you tired?"

"I'm a bundle of energy, Bones." He gave her his patented smile, knowing that it worked equally well with both murder suspects and stubborn forensic anthropologists. "Come on, Bones, it's been a long week and we both deserve a nightcap."

"A nightcap that could be served in either of our apartments and quite possibly leading to sexual intercourse and a good night's sleep." She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you really here, Booth?"

"Can't a guy just see his girlfriend on a Friday night?"

"Not if this guy has something up his sleeves."

"Hey, you got that right!"

"I'm only socially inept, Booth, which is something I'm aware of. I'm not stupid." She rolled her eyes at him.

"I never said you were." He reached out and gently stroked her arm. "Come on, Bones. Just one drink."

She sighed. He was right. They've had a long week, with one case chasing the heels of the next, and several museum projects that she'd spent hours poring over, not to mention the reams of paperwork that had currently taken over her desk. "Let me grab my coat and purse, and we'll head out."

Booth nodded, giving her an appreciative once-over. She was wearing her most comfortable pair of jeans and a long-sleeved lace top that covered just enough of her skin while hugging her curves in such a way that he was itching to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go. "You look fine, babe. Come on. The sooner we go out, the sooner we can get back home."

Giving him a swift smile, Brennan unhooked her favorite white coat off the rack, grabbed her purse and keys from the counter, and followed Booth down the hall and out of the apartment. She hated to admit it, but she did miss his company for the past few days - they were only able to see each other in the context of work, and while there were fleeting kisses and phone calls in the middle of the night, for the most part, they were being run ragged by their careers. She leaned against his reassuring bulk as they headed down the elevator lobby and made their way to the parking lot, feeling infinitely better once his arm was around her shoulders, keeping her close to him.

It was a quiet drive as they made their way towards downtown Washington, the SUV moving swiftly down the slick asphalt, still damp and shining after a short evening shower. Brennan fidgeted with her purse, the seatbelt across her chest, even reaching over to the center console to fiddle with the radio station dial. Finally, when she had realized that they were neither heading towards the Founding Fathers nor the diner, she spared a glance at his shadowed profile. "Where are we going, Booth?"

He gave her a wink and a grin. "It's a familiar place, Bones. Don't worry."

The SUV swung around Dupont Circle and Brennan recognized the elegant wainscoting and familiar wrought-iron streetlamps. "Booth, you didn't have to - "

"Hey, come on. I have the keys already and we've signed the lease. Technically, it's ours." He parked on the curb just outside the townhouse, and gestured for her to join him as he hopped out of the car. She made her way slowly to the sidewalk, looking up at the townhouse hesitantly. The pale white-framed windows seemed to peer out at her from the trees, and she leaned back against the SUV as Booth rummaged around the back of the vehicle, finally producing a blanket, a bottle of the rich red wine she loved so much, and two wine glasses.

They made their way up the porch and Booth turned the key into the lock and nudged the door smoothly. "Mi casa e su casa," he said.

Brennan tried to hide a smile. "I would think that would be the case, as I own half of it."

He ushered her into the darkened living room. The bare hardwood floors were polished and smooth, and the tall windows streamed in pale white lamplight from the sidewalk, cutting squares of light and shadow across the floor and walls. A fireplace, framed in rough-hewn stones and with an elegant wrought-iron grill, gaped at them from the far end of the wall. Booth spread the blanket on the floor and laid down the wine and glasses on top of the cloth. Brennan stood uneasily at the door, arms crossed over her chest, not wanting to make the first move. Looking at her, he toed off his shoes and settled, cross-legged on the blanket, reaching out one hand to her in an invitation.

She sat opposite him, allowing the bottle and glasses to serve as her walls. He poured them each a generous serving of the wine and raised it up for a toast. "What are we celebrating tonight, Bones?"

Looking at him, at his open smile, the wine shimmering in the glass like freshly-decanted blood, she could feel the words clawing out of her throat, past her lips. "I don't want to move in," she blurted out, terrified.

He placed his glass down on the blanket and cocked his head slightly, as though he was looking at her through the other side of the FBI interrogation room. "I know."

"You know?"

"Look, Bones, if you were really, totally, 100% into this move, you would have wanted to be there for everything - looking at places, checking out everything from the plumbing to the building plans, and you would certainly have accompanied me to the realtor's office to drop off the papers. Plus, you were always heading off to either bone storage or the platform whenever I would drop by the lab, which meant that whatever you wanted to talk about would have to be within the context of work." His face fell slightly. "Also, you didn't want to spend time at my place, and you didn't invite me over to yours this entire week."

"You never needed an invitation before."

"Yes, but I also know that if you were really into this project, you would have started packing. I remember when you left for the Maluku project - your stuff was in storage at least three weeks before your flight was scheduled to leave."

She lowered her gaze. "I told you I'm no good at the relationship stuff, Booth. Maybe you should've - "

He reached over and pressed a finger to her lips. "No. I don't regret being with you one single second. And no, I did not want to stay with Hannah. You know that, she knows that, I know that. I'm certain you had very strong feelings for Sully when you were together; I had very strong feelings for Hannah when we were together. But I _love_ you, Temperance Brennan, and if you run away to the ends of the earth, I will follow you even before the words 'trans-Pacific monsoon winds' leave your lips. All right?"

For the first time that evening, she gave him a genuine smile. "There's no such thing as trans-Pacific monsoon winds, Booth."

"I know you'd get your squint on."

She reached down to take a small sip of her wine, allowing the rich, deep flavor of the grapes to explode in her mouth, coat her tongue. "I... I'm just having a difficult time processing this."

"Let me help you, Bones. I want to help you. Just say the word and we'll back out of the lease - of course, I need to tell Parker he won't be having a new room anymore, and man, I'll need to do some serious begging with my landlord to let me re-sign my apartment - but whatever, I'll work out the details." He reached over and entwined his fingers with hers. "Tell me. Please."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

He laughed. "Out of everything you could have picked on, you picked on _that_?"

"Yes!" Exasperated, she jumped up from the blanket and paced the length of the empty room. "If I was in your position, I would have been furious that you were backing out of what was supposed to be a joint decision - one that was amenable to both parties. I would have been livid that you decided to tell me just before we were supposed to pack everything up in boxes and cart them over here. I would have told you, in no uncertain terms, that we are a team, that we are partners, and we do things together because that is what happens when two people in a relationship makes a joint decision." She huffed at him. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Seems like you scolded yourself pretty good right there, Bones." He stood up and walked over to where she was, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. "Look," he said, looking into her eyes, shining like an endless ocean of blue, "I know this is scary for you. I know that you think that once I found out all your dirty little secrets, I'd break up with you and find someone else. But Bones - I've shared a room with you in Vegas, and again a trailer in the middle of nowhere with just _one bed_ between us, and I've seen you - all of you, might I add, and I'm being metaphorical here - when we were in New York. Not to mention staying over at each other's place all the time, and this was even before we were together, and so I know _you_, Bones, and I will, ever ask you to change who you are. I don't care whether you listen to African mating chants to unwind or you keep your disgusting tofu in the fridge because, let's face, I've been keeping disgusting tofu in my fridge for years now." He shrugged, sweeping back an errant lock of her hair behind her ear. "I am happy with who you are, Bones, and it would be both my pleasure and my privilege to live with you."

They were silent for awhile - her head tucked against his chest, his arms tight around her waist. For a moment, Booth thought that she would run away again - and he wasn't kidding, he'd follow her anywhere, quit his job at the Bureau, hop on a plane and track her down. But he felt her sigh deeply and tighten her embrace around him. There was relief in the air, a kind of loosening of tense muscles, tense thoughts. He bent down and pressed a kiss against her hair.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his shirt. "What I was experiencing was irrational."

"Well, you're bound to be irrational every once in awhile, Bones. You're not a robot. And remember what happens when you allow irrefutable logic to take over your life?" They were quiet for a moment, remembering Zach. "Now, why don't you come with me? We can go around the house."

Picking up their respective wine glasses, Brennan and Booth wandered down the hallway. "I figured you would want this as your office," Booth said, gesturing to a smaller room off the hallway, away from the kitchen and dining areas. Everything was done in creams and whites, the woodwork dark and gleaming. She peered into the room, noting the built-in bookshelves and glass-covered cabinets that would be perfect for her artifacts. The kitchen flowed into the dining room, and a cozy breakfast nook was tucked into the corner, providing a perfect view of the climbing vines that decorated the back fence. They had enough space for her sofa and his armchairs, and a long blank wall was the best place to mount the tail-end of the plane that he had decorating his wall back at his apartment.

Strange lights filtered through the bare windows, coupled with the shadows of the trees outside the house, made Brennan feel as though they were underwater. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs - the master suite was bigger than her own bedroom, and the bathroom boasted the luxury of a bathtub and separate shower stall, as well as his-and-hers sinks and separate wardrobes. Parker's room had a view of the yard outside, and they decided to use the extra room as a guest bedroom, whose bathroom was connected to the one Parker would be using. As Booth regaled her with plans about where to put his collection of antique clocks and his hockey trophies ("They won't belong in that museum shelf where your artifacts will be stored, Bones."), his arm slung around her shoulder, she suddenly felt... calm. She took a deep, cleansing breath. The niggling worry, the nervousness that seemed to have invaded her body and mind was gone, to be replaced with something - almost, but not quite - something close to the feeling of safety. Of comfort. Of _home_.

They wandered back down to the living room, where the blanket was still spread out, rumpled, on the bare floor, and the half-finished bottle of wine guarding the space. Brennan stretched out on the blanket, her fingers releasing the wineglass stem, and reached up to pull Booth down for a kiss. After a week of not being certain of where she stood, of vacillating back and forth between wanting to stay and wanting to run away, she was surprised that she felt so... centered. Her arms were around his shoulders, knees tightly around his hips, ankles crossed at the small of his back. He was stable and warm in her arms, and his tongue laved over hers gently, lovingly, telling her with each heady stroke that he loved her here - and here - and here -

He gently removed her blouse, his tongue writing love letters across her skin, lips punctuating each sentence with a kiss. She was molten glass in his hands, continually molded, fragile and beautiful and shining in the pale, undulating light. Her eyes were shimmering, glass-blown, blue heat. She peeled off his own shirt, running her hands across his musculature, her nails scraping lightly across his back as Booth bent down and traced the lace edging of her bra with his tongue. She shivered in his arms, feeling her body respond to his as he flicked the clasp of her bra and slowly, almost reverently, removed it from her body. His hands encircled her breasts as his lips gave name to all the secret places of her body, his teeth running across the sensitive, pebbled surface of her nipples. "Booth..." she insisted, barely recognizing the voice as her own. "Somebody will see."

"This is our house, Bones," he growled, strong arms supporting her body as he traveled across the pale, smooth surface of her belly. "We're just christening this room early."

She gave him a languid smile. "You mean - ?"

"Tradition, Bones."

"Making love in each part of the house?"

A touch of laughter came to Booth's gaze. "Well, maybe except Parker's room. I don't want him to be scarred for life."

She chuckled, propping herself up on her elbows as Booth made short work of her button-down jeans. She bit back a moan as he hooked his thumbs at the edge of her underwear and slid them down her legs, throwing her head back as his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his tongue soothing the bite mark, pain and pleasure mingling throughout her body. Pulling himself up, Booth kissed her deeply, tasting of wine and arousal. She pushed down his own jeans, half-blind with lust and want, and between the two of them, they managed to get Booth's pants and boxers down to his ankles, where he kicked them off haphazardly, accidentally spilling the bottle of wine across the blanket and soaking Brennan's shoulder and side. Instead of wiping off the wine on her skin, Booth bent down and started licking up and down her bare skin, suckling her flesh as she moaned and writhed, the now-familiar feeling of a Booth-induced orgasm burning low in her belly.

He flipped her over so that she was on top, knowing that she needed some kind of control over the situation. His back twinged as it made contact with the hardwood floor, but he silenced the small, pitiful voice in his head as Brennan gave him a wicked grin and made for his cock, taking the length between her lips, her tongue drawing circles across the sensitive flesh. He fisted her hair, unable to control himself, silken strands twining between his fingers. He held his breath as the pressure began to mount. Desperately, he tried not to pound into her mouth; instead, he pulled her up by her shoulders, sliding her down his torso so that their hips aligned, his swollen head begging to enter her slick core.

"I love you, you know that, right Bones?" It seemed important to remind her now, before they lost themselves in each other. She was soft and warm and wanton in his arms, her fall of mahogany-brown hair covering his face like a curtain, as though they were the only two people in the world at this moment in time.

Her lips pursed. "Yes," she breathed out as she sank into him, allowing him to fill her up inch by delicious inch. She was tight as a noose, slick as crushed velvet, and for a moment, he just allowed her to feel him, twitching, inside her. And then her body started to rock, her breasts swaying enticingly above him, and he followed her rhythm, matching her for every thrust, every moan, his thumbs tracing infinite circles on her nipples. She could feel the heat rising from between their bodies, that indescribable uncoiling deep within that snapped - sending waves of pleasure up and down her body. Booth called out her name, unfurling from his lips like a cry of mercy, as his climax slammed against him and he pumped himself dry inside her welcoming core.

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her down to rest on his chest, still joined. Idly stroking her hair, he asked, "Are you better now?"

"Yes, although I should say something about your use of sex to get what you want."

"Hey, babe, I'm not complaining. And besides, you were the one who seduced me, remember?"

A low laugh escaped her lips. "I remember no such thing." She snuggled closer in his arms. "So I suppose we should start figuring out which of our furniture's coming into the house and which ones are going into storage, correct?"

He held her tighter. "Not scared anymore, Bones?"

"No."

"Still want to move in with me?"

"Yes." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I still want to be with you, Booth."

* * *

They decided to move in on a Saturday. Parker was staying with them for the weekend ("This is so cool - my room's much bigger! he exclaimed when he was shown to his new space) and Max and Russ volunteered their help as well. The movers that Angela recommended dismantled both apartments quickly and efficiently, and the five of them followed the moving truck in Booth's SUV with a bunch of suitcases and fragile items. Parker sat in the middle, between Max and Russ, chattering a mile a minute about his new room and how he would hang a poster of the Justice League on his walls and have his own shelf for comic books.

When they arrived at the townhouse, Brennan started directing the men - including Booth and her father and brother - into moving the heavier items first. Her teak dining table was a perfect fit for the dining alcove, and his bar stools and old-school diner decorations found its way to the breakfast nook. Boxes were brought in and set inside the appropriate rooms, and the entire house had an air of organized chaos as the uniformed movers proceeded at a quick pace, while Parker zoomed here and there, finally crashing into the sofa and falling asleep, still clutching his hand-held computer game. Just after lunch, they were finally done, and after a quick drink of lemonade and a generous tip from Booth, the movers piled into the van and drove away.

"Who wants lunch?" proposed Max as they hung around the kitchen island, taking a breather. Russ volunteered to make a pizza run, promising Brennan that he would bring in some spinach and white sauce pizza for her, and let himself out the back door.

Parker wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. "Where's everyone?"

"The movers just left, bub," said Booth, swinging his son up to sit on the kitchen counter, his legs swinging in mid-air. "We're grabbing some pizza and then you wanna help fix your room?"

"Cool!" Parker accepted a tall glass of lemonade and surveyed the kitchen. "Man, this place is a mess."

Brennan laughed. "We'll fix it today so that we have somewhere to sleep, okay? Then tomorrow, you think you can help me?"

"Sure, Bones!" The enthusiasm in his voice was infectious.

"I really need someone who's responsible and intelligent, Parker, and who can be sure that he can help me fix my office."

"You want _me_ to help you?" There was a mixture of awe and disbelief in Parker's voice.

"Sure. You're the best person to ask, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" Beaming with pride, Parker wriggled off the counter, handed his glass back to his father, and zoomed out the room. "I'll go and fix my room right now!" he crowed as they heard him clatter up the stairs.

"Well you kids enjoy your space. I think I'll take a nap on the couch until Russ gets back," said Max, his eyes crinkling kindly. He gave Booth a friendly punch on the arm and hugged his daughter warmly as he made his way to the living room.

Suddenly, the air seemed much warmer as Booth edged towards Brennan, finally capturing her lips in a heated kiss. "God, I wanted to do that all morning."

"You were doing that all morning," she said, smiling against his lips.

"Until Parker came in."

"Indeed." They both grinned at the memory of Parker entering the bedroom, hands firmly over his eyes, announcing that he was hungry.

"We are investing in child-proof locks, Bones." He bent down and kissed her again, leaning his forehead against hers. "So - still scared about this?"

"No way." She looked up at him, her eyes clear and determined. "Plus Angela will kill me. She said that she was hosting a housewarming party for us next week."

He groaned, knowing that when Angela was involved, she was apt to get her way. "Fine, but it better be just our family."

"Yes," she assured him, secretly pleased at the sound of the words on her tongue. "It will just be our family."

* * *

**A/N: Still reeling from all that fluff? I hope you didn't get a massive toothache. (Sorry, I don't cover dental bills.) Anyway, we still have one more item from that box, the Green Lantern comic book will finally be revealed to our favorite FBI agent, and madness ensues. In the meantime, reviews will be much appreciated. See, I skipped lunch break for you guys! :)**


End file.
